Meeting in the Middle
by Lemon Zinger
Summary: Holmes and Watson follow seperate events that lead up to the same mystery. Unfortunately, bitterness and hurt are slowly disintegrating their friendship. Will they be able to reconcile before its too late? Will the case forever drive them apart? A 221B. BBA
1. The case is afoot

**__****_A HUGE thank you to Azolean for Beta-ing. You are the best!_**

**_The Case is Afoot_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I was roused by a knock at my door and I groaned. After a late night it, was difficult to stir; but I managed to ask why I was being woken.

"There's a gentlemen downstairs who demands to see you," Mrs. Hudson replied.

_A case!_ I jumped out of bed and dressed, telling Mrs. Hudson to show the man into the sitting room. I heard them go in and followed, finding the man sitting very rigidly with his back to me.

"Good morning, sir," I said, coming around to get a view of him from the front. "Your athletic talents really should be put to better use then running a shop."

Most clients would look at me astonished, but this man merely glanced sharply at me. I felt like he was sizing me up. I narrowed my eyes and continued studying him further, but kept my further deductions—that he was a bachelor and a gambler—to myself.

"I need you to help me with a little problem of a robbery—" the man started.

I put up my hand to withhold his explanation.

"Do be good enough to wait. My friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, may be interested in helping me," I said.

After he nodded, I left the sitting room and went upstairs to fetch my friend from his bed.


	2. The doctor won't wake

**_The Doctor Won't Wake_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Watson?"

I groaned.

"Watson!"

I groaned again, hoping he'd leave.

"Shall I pour this water on you, or will you wake?" demanded a very unwelcome voice in the early hours of a chilly autumn morning.

I rolled over to confront my flatmate. "Holmes, if you pour that water on me, I will see to it you never wake up peacefully again," I threatened. "Have you no respect for sleep?"

"Doctor, you have too _much_ respect for sleep to possibly go through with your threat," Holmes responded. "I have a client, and thought you might be interested in joining me. The fellow is quite upset over a robbery."

I put my hands over my face and groaned.

"Sitting room in five minutes," Holmes said.

I listened as he left the room and walked briskly down the stairs. I lay there recalling the long, late night we had had. We were dining out. After finishing, we met Lestrade and went to a performance that lasted until after midnight. It was interrupted by Holmes revealing that the actor who played the hero was interested in pottery and painting. He explained his deductions to Lestrade, ruining most of the second act. The people in front of us left.

I rolled over and yawned. Holmes could wait, I thought. Sleep quickly overcame my tired body.


	3. Going to inspect

**_Going to Inspect_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I waited for him outside the sitting room for seven minutes without hearing him stir. I finally gave up and went to hear Mr. Brown's story.

"My friend sends his apologies. He's exhausted," I said.

Thankfully the man gave me facts to think over to distract me. Watson hadn't felt warm, so he shouldn't have a fever… maybe he was just tired. It was best to let him rest. He was a doctor and a better judge than I of his needs. I would let him sleep, and check on him later.

"The thief keeps striking at my place, and I don't know why. He's come three nights so far—Friday, Tuesday, and yesterday. He's taken a few valuables and no clues to who he is, save this hair. It's too dark to be mine, and it wasn't left by a customer—I'd swept last night, and this morning found this." The man passed over a small packet with a piece of hair inside.

"We cannot be absolutely certain it is his—or hers," I said. "A broom can miss one hair."

"Mr. Holmes, I found five in one spot. I only brought one though."

"I would like to visit the shop. Is that alright? Very good, just let me check something before we go."

Once again I visited Watson's bedroom.


	4. What did the thief take?

**_What Did the Thief Take?_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Mr. Brown fetched a cab while I went back up to check on Watson. Still no temperature, but he looked so tired I didn't bother wake him to ask him if he was alright. I found Mr. Brown waiting for me and we were soon off to his shop. It wasn't far, and soon I was inside the shop, which was incredibly well-kept and organized—he was probably a former military man.

I discovered he only used the rooms above the shop for stock. He told me that he planned to start sleeping here to try to catch the thief.

"We cannot be sure it's the same person," I pointed out.

"I believe it is. The reason he only steals a few things at a time is because he knows he'll have another chance later. If he only takes a little, it's easier to hide and sell quickly; as opposed to getting caught with a pile of stolen goods on him. With only one or two items, he could just say he'd bought them off someone else."

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "You would make a slippery criminal."

"Bah!" He looked offended. "I would never be a criminal!"

"That is good news," I said. I looked around and gathered what other small facts I was able. I soon left him to his business.


	5. A Guilty Conscience

**_A Guilty Conscience_**

**-Watson's POV-**

When I woke, I realized I'd slept another hour. I suddenly remembered Holmes and felt guilty, but at least I wasn't tired anymore. I dressed and went down to find Holmes while wondering if he was upset with me for not coming down earlier. With any luck, he'd be willing to let the matter pass and fill me in.

I was to be disappointed. Holmes had left a brief note telling me he'd gone out. The lack of information on his whereabouts was not uncommon, but I wished he'd let me know so I could have joined him.

It suddenly occurred to me how strange it all was. When I had only just met him, I would have hardly given a second thought about his business. Now I cared deeply, and wanted to be a part of his every adventure. I would not willingly trade Holmes' company for anyone or anything.

_Except sleep,_ my guilty conscience reminded me.

Was it really so bad I'd slept in this once? I've wakened up at Holmes' beck and call a scores of times. One time didn't matter. I wouldn't let it ruin our friendship. I just sincerely hoped he didn't think ill of me.

I glanced around the room for clues about the client. Hungry, I decided to ring for Mrs. Hudson and inquired about breakfast.


	6. Bothers a busy mind

**_Bothers a Busy Mind_**

**-Watson's POV-**

After a short breakfast—I was hoping Holmes would be home so we could share lunch—I started to peruse the papers. There was little of interest- at least, little that would interest Holmes.

Suddenly, I heard a cab pull up. I looked out the window and saw Holmes striding to the door. I heard him enter, come up the stairs, and I sat down to await his entrance. He went into his room. I waited.

One minute… two…

I was impatient. I got up and knocked on his door. "Holmes?"

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked quickly, opening his bedroom door, but staying seated on his bed. He scrutinized me with his sharp eyes.

The question caught me off guard. "I'm fine…I wanted to apologize for this morning."

"You were tired," he replied.

His eyes became distant—focusing on something besides our conversation.

"The case?" I asked, trying to draw him into conversation.

"Give me time to think, please."

"Do it out here." I sounded like I was pleading. I was desperate for his company, even if I had to be silent.

"Mr. Holmes!" called an excited voice from downstairs. Holmes jumped over to his bedroom door adjacent to the hallway.

"Mr. Holmes, I will shoot that thief the next time—I swear it on the day I was born!"


	7. An unpleasant client

**_An Unpleasant Client_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Mr. Brown, please! What has caused such an outburst?" Holmes asked.

As the gentleman came up the stairs, I caught my first sight of him. He was large, but not fat. An upper-middle aged man with bushy eyebrows and a rigid manner. He looked like a former boxer or rugby player. Holmes led him to the sitting room where I poured the man some brandy as he took a seat.

"This is your doctor friend then, eh?" the man asked Holmes, not taking the glass from me.

"Yes, this is Dr. Watson," Holmes said.

I couldn't help but notice he left off 'my friend and colleague.'

"Army man, eh?" the man asked Holmes.

"Army surgeon," I amended.

The man looked at me like he'd hardly noticed me. He still had not taken the brandy. I set it on the table beside him.

"Did you wake on time in the service?" the man asked.

I might have struck him had Holmes not calmly interjected.

"Mr. Brown, you still haven't told me of your reason for returning."

"A man came as soon as you left, and told me to tell you to leave the matter alone or I would pay," Mr. Brown said.

I decided to leave; and as I did so, I bumped the brandy, spilling it. I did not turn back.


	8. Is a waste of time

**_Is a Waste of Time_**

**-Watson's POV-**

As soon as I got to my room, I realized I would be quite bored. I had no patience for reading, and had no letters to write. I decided on a whim to go out. I had no particular place to go, but I thought the exercise would do me good. I went downstairs and Mrs. Hudson appeared to help me with me jacket.

"Going out then? Shall I call a cab?" Mrs. Hudson asked thoughtfully.

"No, thank you. I'll just take a stroll," I replied.

"Don't tire yourself too much."

"I won't. See you soon!" I called, going out the door.

The sunny autumn afternoon along with the prospect of getting out of doors for a while cheered me. I strolled nonchalantly down Baker Street, glancing in a few shops at my leisure. Holmes rarely strolled. He walked with intention and little could cause him to deviate from his plans.

He and I were different. I was leisurely, relaxing whenever I could. He always wanted a puzzle to captivate his attention. I liked to have my meals regularly while he could go for long stretches without. We both could do without sleep—but I preferred not to.

I didn't truly mind Holmes' habits—they were tolerable. I was, however, furious that he would ever help a client like Mr. Brown.


	9. Angry at cruel words

**_Angry at Cruel Words_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

"My shirt!" Mr. Brown cried as the brandy soaked his sleeve.

I watched astonished as Watson continued walking. I had never seen him so rude. Usually I was the one to be disagreeable. I helped Mr. Brown mop up the spill and heard Watson go downstairs. I looked out the window and saw him leave. Part of me wanted to go after him, but I knew Watson needed time to calm down. I would see the client off swiftly and await Watson's return.

"That man is hardly the sort I pictured you associating with," Mr. Brown said.

I whirled on the man and pounded my fist on the table.

"If you ever talk about my friend that way again, Mr. Brown, I shall personally burn your store to the ground! I will not have you speak so towards him again! Is that clear?" I yelled.

He swallowed nervously and nodded.

"Good, now leave!" I said.

"But what about the man—"

"Write the facts down and send them to me!" I hissed.

He quickly got up and left, looking a little disgruntled. I sat down and waited for Watson's return. I got the letter from Mr. Brown, but hardly read it. I was in no mood for thinking over facts. I wanted Watson and I to be_ in status quo ante bellum._


	10. Meeting a new friend

**_Meeting a New Friend_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I paused at one shop that had a variety of things—from glass décor to kites. As I looked over a shelf a model boat caught my eye. I'll never know why—maybe I wanted to sail away for awhile.

"Looking for anything in particular?" a clerk asked in a low staccato voice.

"I'm just browsing," I replied, smiling.

"That's a nice one. We—my brother and I—found two down in the cellar of our parents' home. That's where most of this stuff comes from."

"I haven't seen this shop before. Are you new here?" I asked.

"Yes. My brother and I just opened a week ago. There's pretty decent business around here. We have rooms above the shop and like our neighbors."

"I live nearby with a friend of mine, Sherlock Holmes," I said.

"Well then you must be Dr. Watson! I've heard about you two from some of the neighbors," the man said, offering his hand. "I'm Sam Weaver. My brother's name is Tom."

I shook his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure's all mine. I have wanted to meet you since I first heard of you," Mr. Weaver said.

"Heard of me?"

"Yes, we've been told about you and Holmes by some customers."

After a long and pleasant chat, I left with the model boat.


	11. And a new shipmate

**_And a New Shipmate_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I returned to the lodgings hoping to find Mr. Brown gone. As I came in the door Mrs. Hudson came to greet me and take my coat.

"Is he gone?"

"You mean that horrible man with the deep voice?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

I looked at her with a smile. She was kind to most, but could voice her dislike.

"Yes," I said.

"Thankfully he left. Frankly, I was a little surprised when you left while Holmes had a client, but when I fetched him tea I found out why," Mrs. Hudson said.

"I spent a charming afternoon getting to know the Weavers, two brothers who have opened a shop nearby." I briefly told her of my afternoon.

"And I see you made a purchase," she said, curiously.

"Yes, I used to be interested in boats as a boy. You might have to start calling me Captain Watson," I joked.

"Well, First Mate Holmes is upstairs. I'll bring up lunch."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Hudson," I said, saluting comically.

As I ascended the stairs my leg felt uncomfortably stiff. When I got upstairs, I was faced with the decision of going into the sitting room and possibly facing Holmes, or taking the boat to my room. I took a step towards the sitting room door, then turned and headed, slowly, for my bedroom.


	12. Apologies to extend

**_Apologies to Extend_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I heard Watson enter the flat, heard him ascend the stairs.

All seventeen of them.

Then I heard him pause at the door. I wanted so badly to tell him to come in, but I knew he had been hurt. And, from past experience, I expected he would come to me when he was ready.

But would he trust to come to me after what had transpired? I should give up the case, but I was itching for a case. I had been so bored as of late.

What did I want more? My friend Watson or a case? Why couldn't I have both as always? Why couldn't Mr. Brown have had some manners? Why couldn't I bring myself to dismiss him and the case earlier?

I got up and strode quickly to the doorway. I would tell Watson how I felt, how sorry I was. I would ask him what he wanted me to do—give up the case or finish it. Finish it _fast._

But, when I opened the door, I was confronted with an empty hallway. Watson had already marched upstairs. And for the first time in the midst of four million London inhabitants, I felt completely and utterly alone.

When had I become so attached to him that I felt at a loss without my fellow boarder?


	13. Small talk made

**_Small Talk Made_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I did go back down to join Holmes for lunch. Mrs. Hudson and I met at the door and I let her go in first.

"Thank you, Captain Watson," she said with a smile.

"This looks excellent, Lieutenant Hudson. You should get a promotion," I played along as she set the tray down on the table.

"Well, enjoy, Captain," Mrs. Hudson saluted and laughed as she left.

I sat at the table and looked over at Holmes, who was sitting quietly in his chair. I wasn't about to press him, so I merely filled my plate. He slowly got up and came over, but didn't sit; merely looked over the meal with a harsh gaze. I watched him without moving my head.

"It's a good meal," I offered.

"Yes, I observed you were enjoying it," he responded with a sour tone.

"Have some," I suggested.

He sat down, but took none of the food. I continued to glance at him from time to time. He looked like he wanted to say something, but never spoke. I wondered what was on his mind, and if it was about the client or my sleeping in. I finished what I had and took seconds to give him some more time to speak. As I took my last bite, the silence was still not broken.


	14. Choices he is facing

**_Choices He is Facing_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I watched Watson eat as I worried over his joking with Mrs. Hudson. Had he taken Mr. Brown's comments so badly? I wanted to say something to him about it. I wanted to tell him how I had yelled at the man for what he'd said. But, if he was truly hurt, then what difference did that make? Could I ask Watson to decide on the case, when I now knew the decision he'd make? It wasn't _his _livelihood!

I decided to go over and try to talk to him. I looked over the food, but had lost my appetite. I was suddenly very upset, and couldn't find the right words to start a conversation.

He said something about the food. I told him one of my observations. No! That was all wrong. It sounded terrible and didn't give him a reason to respond. He suggested I have some. I sat down, but couldn't bring myself to take any. I sat there trying to think of how to start. I opened and closed my mouth a dozen times but no words came out.

He kept sending me curious looks, making me all the more nervous. Was my silence causing him to think I was indifferent to the pain my client had obviously caused?

_Curse this client! He can go to blazes!_


	15. Read of mutiny

**_Read of Mutiny_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I left after a little while. There was no reason I should sit there waiting for Holmes all night. I decided to let him come to me. I went upstairs and decided to rest my leg for a little while. I went to fetch a book to read and found an old favorite—a collection of sailing stories.

I lay on my bed, but my imagination took me to the decks of ships and shores of unknown islands. It was a wonderful book, one that I hadn't read in ages. I was thoroughly enjoying it. There was one story in particular about a captain who had a pet monkey he'd bought in India. There was a mutiny aboard the ship, but the monkey's cries alerted the captain and he fought off the mutineers successfully. Unfortunately, the monkey was shot and killed. The captain renamed the ship Shoran after his pet. Later, he discovers the name means protector.

Afternoon stretched into evening, and soon I heard a knock that roused me from his day dreams.

"Doctor, your supper is ready," called Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." I replied, getting up and opening the door. "How's the ship doing this evening?"

Mrs. Hudson sighed irritably. "Holmes is in a bad mood. After you left he went into his room and won't budge."


	16. Furiously Pacing

**_Furiously Pacing_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Watson left without a word; and who could blame him? What sort of companion was I? I went into my room and paced, trying to solve this horrid problem. I could solve cases Scotland Yard couldn't ever figure out. But when it came to talking to Watson, I was as clueless as a child!

I wished Mr. Brown would just carry out his threat! Then the matter would be over, and I could never have anything to do with him again.

But I knew that there was more to it than that. The man who had threatened me to back off meant business, and I wondered what his involvement was. Was the thief part of a gang, or did he have someone trying to help him?

I quickly realized my thoughts had veered off track. I was supposed to be solving my problem with Watson, not Mr. Brown. Of course, once this case was done with I might have an easier time of mending things with my friend.

I suddenly thought about watching the store tonight myself, and catching the thief. I could then let a constable take the credit, and there would be no more of Mr. Brown. Well, no more of Mr. Brown after I collected my fees. Then I would buy Watson the best present money could buy.


	17. Give the silence a break

**_Give the Silence a Break_**

**-Watson's POV-**

For a second, I considered asking Mrs. Hudson to bring my meal up to me, but she looked so tired that I decided against it. If Holmes wasn't budging, then maybe he wouldn't come out to not talk to me. Another silent meal was not something I was looking forward to, but it was better then fighting. Maybe after a good night's rest everything could be forgotten, and things would go back to normal—at least, as normal as life with a detective can be.

I sat down to eat and heard Mrs. Hudson knock and tell Holmes supper was ready. I heard a muffled response from inside his room and wondered if he planned to eat at this meal or not, and if he planned to talk or not, and if he ever planned to talk to me again—which was a lot to think about.

The doorknob on his bedroom door turned slowly. I glanced over and kept eating. Maybe he'd be ready to talk now. He slowly made his way over to the table and took a seat. He took some food, but only nibbled it.

I wondered if I was to endure another silent meal when he surprised me by opening his mouth and proceeding to form sounds which formed into words, giving the silence a break.


	18. To make an invitation

**_To Make an Invitation_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

When I first started speaking, Watson dropped his fork and looked up at me, surprise written on his features. I had his full attention, which I suppose is always better then talking to a brick wall… if the person speaking isn't incredibly nervous. I stopped in the middle of my sentence and completely forgot what I was saying.

"Going where tonight?" Watson pressed.

I was telling him of my plan to watch the shop… that was it!

"I am going to watch the shop for the thief; hopefully he'll be caught and the matter will be done with," I said, my mouth feeling dry.

I hoped he understood my urgent desire to end the case, and didn't think I was trying to avoid him.

"I see," Watson said.

Did I need to put his invitation in the wall with bullets? Mrs. Hudson wouldn't approve.

"You should come," I said, hoping that was clear enough.

"I shouldn't, my leg's been stiff," he replied.

Was it? I hadn't noticed. I would usually be able to tell from how he climbs the stairs. Or was he just giving a polite excuse?

I didn't know what to say. If I pressed him to come and his leg got worse, I would feel horrible. If I missed his company tonight I would feel just as bad.


	19. Another spy appears

**_Another Spy Appears_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

In the end, I'd gone alone. He sat reading in the sitting room while I prepared my disguise for tonight. When I was done, I asked him what he thought.

"You look… different," he said.

I wondered if that was intended to be a good thing. I bid him goodnight and went out to start my vigil. I walked there and found a good spot in an alleyway nearby. I had to sit with my knees bent—which can become quite uncomfortable. I started to think over the case.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many variables. The reason for only a few items at a time could be as Mr. Brown had said, or because the thief had a long way to go. The thief had struck last Friday, Tuesday, and now Friday again. Was there a pattern to the days? Or was it merely the time it took to sell off the old items? Did the thief know of Mr. Brown's other lodgings, or was it coincidence he'd picked this shop? Was it a he?

I was beginning to feel chilly. I hung my head to feign sleep just as I spied another person across the street. He was watching from an alley beside the shop. Was he waiting for the thief? Or was he himself the blackguard?


	20. Lack of communication

**_Lack of Communication_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I could clearly see the disappointment on Holmes' face when I refused his invitation. I felt angry that a wound was preventing me from joining him. However, had it not been for the wound, I may never have met Holmes.

When he came to me dressed in rags and looking like a vagabond, I wanted to talk more. However, he asked me how he looked and I suddenly lost the power of speech. I mumbled some lame comment and he busied himself preparing to leave. When he finally told me goodnight, I still had thought of nothing to say. I heard him shut the door with a pang of regret. Could we ever move on from this? Were we to be awkward flat mates forever?

He had spoken to me though. He had told me his plans, invited me along… But was he only thinking of the case? There had been no mention of earlier events. Was his mind so wrapped up in the client's problem that he was ignorant to our problems? Or was it my own fault for causing all this in the first place and he felt it was my responsibility to talk first? He had been a little talkative tonight, but I felt that my lack of words had pulled up yet another board in our bridge.


	21. Damn the Beard!

**_Damn the Beard!_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Watson has often commented on my disguising abilities, but he's lucky that he's not stuck out on a chilly night in an uncomfortable position watching a shop for a horrible man while wearing an extremely itchy beard.

I tried to control my temper as I considered getting up and carrying out my earlier threat to burn the place. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to be at home by the fire with Watson.

And the other man was still there, too. I knew I should not stir until he did, and might be here well into the morning. There was little doubt that I could fight him off if necessary, but I was more concerned in discovering his business with this whole affair and if he was working for someone higher up. So I would wait for him to lead me to the answer.

The name Moriarty had come up recently in several cases and I began to wonder if I could draw a net around him. Lestrade would think it the accomplishment of a lifetime, but I feared catching him might slow crime and leave me with fewer cases.

I adjusted a little, and gave a snore to make my fellow watcher think I was still asleep. I really wanted to itch, but could not. Damn this beard!


	22. An unexpected guest

**_An Unexpected Guest_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I heard a light knocking on my door in the morning and wondered if it was Holmes. Was he trying again to include me?

"Doctor?" called a feminine voice.

I was a little disappointed, but got up to see what Mrs. Hudson wanted.

"Good morning. I didn't want to wake you, but there's a gentleman downstairs who wishes to see you. He says it's urgent and that you know him," Mrs. Hudson said.

"Did he give a name?" I asked, trying not to yawn.

"Samuel Weavers. He said to tell you 'the model boat', if you didn't remember."

"Of course, I remember him," I said, suddenly roused. "Show him into the sitting room. Is Holmes back?" I asked.

"Not yet, sir," she said.

"Well, show him up. I'll be there in a moment," I said.

I quickly dressed and came downstairs. Mrs. Hudson was pouring our guest some tea and handed me a cup, too.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. That will be all for now," I said.

She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. When I turned to greet Mr. Weaver I noticed how upset he looked.

"What is it? You're not ill I hope?" I asked, sitting across from him.

"No, nothing like that. I came in hopes of talking to Mr. Holmes. It's about my brother's boy."

"What is it? You're not ill I hope?" I asked, sitting across from him.

"No, nothing like that, I came in hopes of talking to Mr. Holmes. It's about my brother's boy."


	23. Spare the thief

**_Spare the Thief_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

By morning the man had still not stirred. He was still feigning sleep when Mr. Brown arrived at his shop. I noticed a pillow and blanket under his arm, and a revolver-shaped bulge in his pocket. He really meant to sleep at his shop and shoot the thief.

I knew Watson would advise him to spare the thief's life. Valuables were less precious than life. I agreed; but also because if the thief died, I might never discover the missing facts. I would advise Mr. Brown to shoot for a leg.

The thought made me think about Watson, and I wondered how his night had been.

As Mr. Brown went into his shop, the other man stirred. He was the sort of man who would be able to crawl through a window or run from a constable. At first, I began to think he was the thief, who had not struck last night because of my presence. But I noticed a fact that instantly disagreed with that. Unlike the hair sample Mr. Brown had given me, this man had hair that was longer, and blonde.

He looked at me with narrowed eyes and rose. In the morning light, I could see he matched the description that Mr. Brown had given me of the fellow who had harassed him the day before.


	24. What happened in France?

**_What Happened in France?_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"My brother and I are only a year apart. We may as we'll be twins," Mr. Weaver began.

I grabbed a nearby notebook and started jotting notes

"We lived out in the country, but he came here was married and widowed within the space of five years. I never married, probably never will. But I helped Tom out with the boy, whose name is Matthew, by the way.

"When Matthew was twelve, Tom moved to France with the offer of a job and I saw nothing of them for three years. We traded letters and such, but I know little of their time there. Imagine my surprise one rainy night when I found them on my doorstep arguing fiercely. Of course, I let them in and gave them a place to stay. Tom became very ill and I helped nurse him back to health. I found my nephew had become rebellious and hateful, but never knowing why.

"Tom recovered shortly after our parents died. We inherited a lot of their unwanted belongings, and Tom suggested we sell them. We decided to try our luck with a shop, and you know the rest of that. We are doing well… or rather, we were."

"What has happened? Tom isn't ill again?" I asked, concerned.

Mr. Weaver sighed. "There's another reason I'm bothered."


	25. Lots of grief

**_Lots of Grief_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"It was four nights ago, I think, when we first noticed Matthew missing," Mr. Weaver said.

"You mean he's gone?" I asked.

"No, he was out late, but came back just as we were about to go for the police. He avoided our questions, but was rather dirty," Mr. Weaver said.

"How long was he gone?"

"Two, maybe three hours, it was very late. He wasn't back until one in the morning. We noticed him missing at eleven, but he may have left sooner," Mr. Weaver said. "He went again, two nights ago," Mr. Weaver said. "Only, this time, we didn't notice him missing until morning. I got up early and noticed him gone from his bed. An hour later I found him out back by the steps. He was quite muddy."

"Did you ask him where he was?" I asked.

"Yes, quite firmly. Tom came out and asked what was going on and I told him. He seemed to be quite shaken," Mr. Weaver said. "Tom's not been eating or sleeping well since. We share a room, so hear him tossing restlessly."

"What do you think Matthew is up to?"

"I don't want to think ill of either of them, but something happened in France that they aren't sharing. And I think it has to do with this, I believe."


	26. Enjoy your drink!

**_Enjoy Your Drink!_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I finally got up and started for home. I took an awkward route; just in case I was being followed, and noticed I was. It wasn't the blonde from last night, but another nasty looking fellow. I quickly turned into a pub and took a seat.

"Mornin to ye," the bartender said.

"There will be a reward, if you help me. My name is Jack, and act like you know me well," I whispered urgently.

"Jack! Slept off yer drinks last night?" the bartender said.

I saw my pursuer enter the bar and sit at a table behind me.

"Some ale, please," I said in a disguised voice, glad the man was playing along.

"Be with you in a moment sir!" called the bartender. "Here ye are, Jack!" he said, sliding a glass to me.

I caught it and sipped it.

"And what'll be your pleasure, sir?" the bartender asked the other guest.

"The same," he replied.

"Commin' up," the bartender said.

"Put it on my tab," I said.

"Mighty fine of ya," my follower said, glaring at me suspiciously.

I watched as the bartender filled the glass and added a white powder to it. He slyly winked at me before serving the drink.

Soon enough, my pursuer was out cold. On my way out I thanked and paid the bartender.


	27. First name basis

**_First Name Basis_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"And have you asked them about it?" I wonder aloud as I saw Mr. Weaver's eyes mist.

"I tried, once. Tom got so upset about it that I dropped the subject," Mr. Weaver said. "I helplessly fear for his health. I don't know how to help them if they won't be open with me."

I understood in a way—Holmes worried me too. I was silent, not knowing what to say. It was a curious problem, these nightly disappearances.

"Have you ever thought about following the boy?" I asked.

"Now there's a thought! We could watch for him and see where he goes. You're brilliant!"

I felt a glow of pride from the compliment. "Should we tell Tom?" I asked.

"No, he would get too worked up," Mr. Weaver decided. "What about Holmes?"

"I don't know if he has the time… He's working on another case."

"Well, you and I can certainly handle this. We can meet up across the street tonight at nine. Agreed?" Mr. Weaver said.

"Agreed," I said. "I'll see you then Mr. Weaver."

We headed to the sitting room door.

"Oh please, call me Sam," he said as we went down the stairs.

"Very well, call me John," I replied.

It was only after I said it that I realized Holmes had returned. He looked tired and bothered.


	28. What to think?

-**Holmes's POV-**

It was a hard thing to come back to- Watson coming to know someone on a first-name had known next to no one when he'd first started sharing a room with me, shouldn't we be at this stage before this gentleman and Watson? Why had we never used first names? The three of us stood awkwardly for a moment before the guest cleared his throat.

"You must be Holmes." He said.

"Yes, forgive my manners Sam, this is Sherlock Holmes. Holmes, this is Sam Weaver, he owns a shop nearby."

I hardly knew what to say. Did Watson intend this as a slap in my face? I decided to be rational, Watson had only been being polite, and Sam was the one I disliked.

"Ah, you must be the two brothers who recently moved nearby. I regret I haven't been inside your shop yet." I said, hoping this awkward moment wouldn't last.

"Ah Mr. Holmes, you're just in time for breakfast!" Mrs. Hudson said, coming in.

"Would you like to stay?" Watson offered Sam.

No, no, no! Watson and I needed to be alone, we needed to talk!

"No thank you, I must get back to the shop. See you tonight." He said, departing.

A thousand emotions filled me as I ripped off my coat and tore off my boots.


	29. Torn between two

**_Torn Between Two_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I considered not eating, but then I'd need my strength for tonight. It was going to be a rough meal though. I wished I had heard him come in! I wish I could have avoided this!

I washed up and sat down. And Holmes, after removing his disguise, joined me.

Mrs. Hudson quickly finished and left. I felt bad that our problems were affecting her.

"Is that where you went yesterday—to his shop?" Holmes asked quietly.

"Yes, I was browsing and we met. He has a problem I offered to help him with."

"Involving his brother?" Holmes asked.

"His brother's son," I quickly related some of the basic facts—that the boy was disappearing regularly, causing quite a commotion.

"And what's tonight?"

"I suggested we follow the boy."

"What about your leg?"

"It's doing better. That walk yesterday just wore me out. A good night's sleep helped."

There was a pause. "So I am to vigil alone?" Holmes asked.

"Holmes, I promised him!"

"I asked you before he did," Holmes retorted.

"You are perfectly capable. The boy may be getting into trouble, and need help," I responded. "Besides, I doubt Mr. Brown would want me there—I might fall asleep," I continued insolently—my temper flaring.

We lapsed into a cold silence and I wished I could have controlled my bitterness.


	30. Going with him instead

**_Going with Him Instead_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I was shocked beyond measure at Watson's words. He was bitter and angry, and I didn't know what to do. Should I let him alone? Leave him to befriend Sam Weaver? I wanted him to stay until we fixed things, but I had not stayed last night; so why should he? I didn't mind him befriending the Weavers, but they should know that I intended to outdo them at every opportunity. I had known Watson longer then them. Another idea occurred to me.

"I'll join you," I offered.

Besides, I did not want to spend another night cramped up in an alleyway.

"I thought you were catching the thief," Watson said, confusion overcoming his angry expression.

"I can take the night off. I doubt the thief will strike until tomorrow night anyway," I said. "I believe he sells off his goods before he strikes again. There have been several days in between robberies," I explained.

The time he took to respond scared me. Would he give a polite excuse or plainly refuse?

"I… I suppose," Watson said. "If you really are willing to take the chance he won't strike."

I didn't speak again to keep Watson from changing his mind and, therefore, had plenty of time to wonder if I was taking a positive step forward, or making a terrible blunder.


	31. Informed of the facts

**_Informed of the Facts_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

We left the hour at a quarter before eight and headed towards the shop. Watson's leg looked to be slightly stiff, but I didn't say anything. He looked to be managing fine, and I kept to the outside of the sidewalk.

I saw Mr. Weaver's eyes widen in surprise when we met each other, but Watson smoothly explained that I'd offered my help.

"That's kind of you, Mr. Holmes," Mr. Weaver said.

"Sam, is Tom alright?" Watson asked, ever the doctor.

"He went to bed early, but I checked on him before I came out here and he was sleeping peacefully. The boy was reading in bed when I checked on him," Mr. Weaver said.

"How would he leave the shop?" I asked, getting to the point.

"I would say through the back door in our storeroom," Mr. Weaver said.

"Then we should wait there, if we can," I stated.

"There's plenty of hiding spots in there—it's full of boxes and the like," Mr. Weaver said.

So we followed Mr. Weaver around to the back where he quietly led us into the storeroom. Watson paused at the wooden steps leading up to the door.

"This is where he was that second morning?" he asked.

"Yes. Digging, I think," Mr. Weaver answered.

We entered the storeroom and started hiding behind boxes.


	32. The thanks unsaid

**_The Thanks Unsaid_**

**-Watson's POV-**

Holmes found a chair in the storeroom and put it behind some boxes. I turned to looked about for a place to hide when a hand touched my shoulder.

It was Holmes, and he was pointing me to the spot he'd just set up. I didn't know what to say, as he moved on to hide behind a table stacked with boxes. Sam was already hidden. I quickly went to the place Holmes had directed me to and sat down, glad for the comfortable spot. I was also confused. Holmes had not only offered to join us, but had also been thoughtful—not saying anything when I had stumbled on the way and giving me this hiding spot.

I wished I had thanked him.

I grew restless as the hours stretched on. Finally, as the gray light of dawn seeped under the door, I stood and stretched. Holmes appeared from behind the dresser.

"Sam?" I called.

"Asleep," Holmes said.

I sighed and wondered whether to let him rest or wake him. Holmes ended up making the decision for me as he accidentally knocked over some books. Sam awoke with a startled yelp.

"You should go before Tom or Matt sees you. I don't want them catching wind of what we're up to," Sam said urgently, starting to pick up the books.


	33. Finally a pleasant chat

**_Finally, A Pleasant Chat_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Watson and I were soon on our way, leaving Sam to attend to his family and the shop. I suggested calling a cab, but Watson said he was glad to stretch his legs. There was a gentle hush over London as the peaceful morning wore on. Watson seemed to enjoy the walk, though it was slightly chilly.

"Thank you," Watson said after a long silence.

"For what?" I asked.

"For your thoughtfulness… when you offered me the chair," Watson said.

"Your leg was sore," I replied, trying to fend off the emotions that filled me.

"It's doing better," Watson said gently. He suddenly coughed.

"You'll catch a cold out here!" I exclaimed, quickly giving him my scarf.

"Holmes…" Watson said in a warning tone.

"Look, we're nearly home," I said, pointing out our door.

"I can see that… Oh for the love of…" his tone suddenly turned sour and he stopped.

"What? What is it?" I asked, stopping too.

"You have company," he spat, pointing out the unmistakable form of Mr. Brown going towards our porch.

Watson swore as the man caught sight of us and waved. He took a step towards us and Watson took a step back. I was suddenly aware of how cold it was, how tired I was, and that a peaceful morning had just become beastly.


	34. Tell Scotland Yard!

**_Tell Scotland Yard!_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Watson quickly crossed the street and continued towards our residence, crossing back to get there. He couldn't have made it clearer he was avoiding Mr. Brown, who was watching him. He snorted as Watson entered and closed the door behind him.

"I didn't even speak to him!" he exclaimed, sounding incredulous at Watson's behavior.

If Watson wasn't so hurt by the matter it would be comical.

"I don't think he intends to give you a chance," I replied, heading towards the door.

"Mr. Holmes, I will not bother going in. I only came to tell you that my shop is being watched by two fellows, the one who threatened me and one of his friends. There's always one of them about," Mr. Brown said, sounding livid.

"Then for heavens sake, tell Scotland Yard," I snapped. I could hardly believe I was suggesting it.

"Mr. Holmes, I engaged you to solve this case because I want the thief caught, not warned off. I don't like—or want—a bumbling constable around to annoy me," Mr. Brown said.

"Mr. Brown, we all have to deal with people we don't like, it's one of those… sad little facts of life that make the people we_ do_ like all the more dear," I said, before promptly turning and entering the flat—leaving my horrible client behind.


	35. Lava will burn

**_Lava Will Burn_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I have never treated one of Holmes' clients so coldly, and I hoped I never would feel inclined to again. I was curt with Mrs. Hudson, who seemed to understand enough to not be offended. She told me breakfast would be up shortly and I grunted in response.

"Doctor," she called softly.

I turned, halfway up the stairs. "Yes?"

"Don't let him affect you like this. You are better then this,"

She turned and left me standing shocked. When I started up the stairs and reached the sitting room door I heard the front door bang—announcing Holmes' arrival.

"Watson!" he called.

He seemed flustered, and I wondered if he was mad about my actions outside. What right did he have to tell me to stand there and listen to that man?

"What?" I asked, hardly calm.

"Watson, we need to talk."

"About what? How you continue to assist a client who has insulted me? How you hate the fact I've made friends with Sam? How you hate that I would offer to help Sam rather then that horrid Mr. Brown? Save your breath. I don't want to hear any of it!" I said, my temper finally pouring out like lava.

I stormed up to my room, and slammed my door. In my anger I forgot something about lava—it burns.


	36. Food he will discard

**_Food He Will Discard_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

After Watson's outburst, I went into my room thoroughly shaken. I was so angry and so hurt that I didn't know what to do. I was unaccustomed to such strong feelings. I was normally unemotional and rational, but nothing about this situation was rational. It caused the normally strong wall holding back my emotions to break, causing a flood that left behind destruction.

I paced, my feet pounding the floor. When Mrs. Hudson knocked and told me breakfast was ready, I asked if Watson was eating. She went to see and came back to inform me that "No, he is not."

Nor did he show for lunch. By supper Mrs. Hudson decided to bully both of us into eating. She brought us both plates of food, and, when she left, I picked up my plate and tossed some of the food out the window to make it appear I simply hadn't finished.

Being a detective had its pros.

I went into my room and listened to Watson's footsteps. They went from his window back to his bed. Had he too, tossed the food Mrs. Hudson had brought him? He needed to keep his strength up!

Not that I was setting a good example. I wondered what he was thinking, and if he felt as anxious as I to end this bickering.


	37. Both leave again

**_Both Leave Again_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

By seven I had decided to go out again. I was tired, though had had napped in the afternoon. The strain of tension in the house diminished my motivation and I felt I needed to get away more than sleep.

I put on my disguise; the same as the other night—except the beard—which I traded for a less itchy one that was about the same length and color. I donned the tattered clothing of 'Jack', and tried to pretend that everything was normal.

My sharp mind remembered everything all too vividly.

I heard footsteps on the stairs to Watson's room. Heard him—Mrs. Hudson had a far lighter step—descend and stop near my door. There was silence for a second, and I went to the door to see if possibly we could talk. When I opened it, he wasn't there. I looked over the banister and saw the front door closing.

"Mrs. Hudson!" I called.

"Yes sir?" Mrs. Hudson asked, coming in.

"Did Watson receive or send any messages today?"

"He sent one this afternoon, and received a reply," Mrs. Hudson said.

"Do you know to whom and about what?" I inquired.

"It was to Mr. Weaver. I didn't read Watson's message, but the reply was short and unfolded," Mrs. Hudson said. "It said 'meet around back.'"


	38. Digging up trouble

**_Digging up Trouble_**

**-Watson's POV-**

Part of me wanted to talk to Holmes before I left, but I was still too disgruntled. I had made plans with Sam to meet early and dig a little under the steps before hiding in the storeroom. I walked again; but this time, London seemed oppressive and busy. I missed the peace of the morning walk. I missed Holmes.

I found Sam already digging and joined him, glad I'd worn my ripped the shirt and muddied pants. They'd gotten that way when I was working on a case with Holmes, though I didn't remember which.

We dug about two feet down, but then gave up.

"There's nothing here," Sam said. "We should get ready," Sam decided, sliding the dirt back into the hole and packing it in.

"Don't fall asleep," I jested.

"Not this time."

Sam had moved another chair into the storeroom so we both had seats. We sat there and watched as the light faded to make way for the darkness of night.

And the warmth gave way to the cold of night. By eleven I was freezing, even though I had worn my heavy coat and gloves. Then suddenly, I heard a soft scrape and a light shone in the doorway that divided the storeroom and the shop. A figure moved forward, the figure of a boy!


	39. The climax approaches

**_The Climax Approaches_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I watched as the boy quietly opened the door and closed it behind him. I counted to ten before standing and going over. Sam followed my lead. I opened the door a crack and peaked out. The boy was going through the alleyway towards the road. I motioned Sam to be quiet and we snuck out after him.

We followed at a distance for some time. Was he going to meet someone? Was it an innocent trip to see a girl or meet friends? I sincerely hoped he wasn't getting into trouble. I remembered causing annoyance with my concern for some of the Irregulars one night when Holmes employed them to help him. But the boy...what was his purpose in these nightly ventures? What did these disappearances have to do with their time in France? Was he trying to help his father? Or was he the reason his father was concerned?

Suddenly he stopped in front of a shop, and we quickly hid in the doorway of another shop to avoid being seen. He looked around before taking something out of his pocket and fussing with the door. Suddenly, three things happened—I realized he was breaking into the shop, a figure grabbed him and put his hand over the surprised boy's mouth, and the scene became chaotic and bloody.


	40. The pain is double

**_The Pain is Double_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

Again I found myself cramped in an alleyway watching the shop, where I knew Mr. Brown was now sleeping; with the blonde man nearby. The night was extremely cold, and I hoped Watson was fairing well.

I saw a figure coming up the street and stop at the door. I noticed two others duck into a doorway and peek out at him. Were they more of the blonde man's helpers? Just as the boy seemed to have unlocked the shop's door, the blonde man slipped up behind him, grabbed him, and covered his mouth.

As he dragged the boy back, the door swung opened and banged against the windows of the shop. The boy gave a muffled scream, and a light in the shop came on. By this time, I was running forward; as were the two other figures, which I didn't even look at. I was intent on stopping the thief and his captor.

The man who had grabbed the boy gave a cry and released the boy, stepping back. I saw a figure, obviously Mr. Brown, in the shop with a gun pointed at the boy. The boy seemed to see it too and was frozen.

I didn't even think as I pushed the boy down out of the way.

"Holmes!"

I suddenly felt the searing pain of bullets.


	41. Soaked in blood

**_Soaked in Blood_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Matthew!" Sam cried as he rushed forward towards his shaken nephew.

"Get out of here!" the man who had grabbed the boy screamed at another man who had a raised gun. They rounded a corner and were quickly out of sight.

"What in blazes is going on?" a familiar voice demanded.

The noise and chaos around me was completely drowned out as I rushed forward and caught the limp form of the shot man. I could feel warm blood on my hands as I gently laid him down and tore off the disguise, praying I would be wrong, that it wasn't the body of my friend lying on the ground.

When I knew it was him, I felt sick.

"Holmes…" I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Good God, get some help!" Sam shouted, coming over to me and taking off his jacket.

He covered Holmes's legs with it and I quickly did the same, covering his upper body. Matthew fetched a light and held it for me while I checked the wounds. I knew nothing of what was going on around me, only that driving need to see to my friend. My hands shook as I found one wound on his right shoulder and the other on his left hip. His clothes as well as my own were becoming soaked with blood.


	42. Need to concentrate

**_Need to Concentrate_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"I need something to stop the bleeding—a bandage or some cloth!" I called.

Momentarily several cloths were given to me and I pushed some to Sam.

"Hold one over the wound and apply pressure!" I shouted. "When it becomes too soaked, get another!"

I had no idea why I was shouting. Maybe I was trying to drive back the voice in my head that was reminding me how horribly I had treated him. Reminding me that those angry words I had spoken to him may be the last he'd hear from me. I would never forgive myself if that was the case.

I must have said or done something to alarm Sam, for he put his free hand on my shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Doctor, focus," he said. "He needs you."

I quickly started securing the other wound. I noticed it had gone straight through and I had to put some cloths under him to try to stop him from bleeding to death. I then applied pressure to the other side of the wound, hoping that help was on the way.

It is funny how strange things come to you at times when you need to be focused, but I couldn't help thinking about accusing Mr. Brown of attempting murder. I would personally love to see him behind bars.


	43. Brother understanding

**_Brother Understanding_**

**-Watson's POV-**

By some miracle it was Lestrade who was on duty, and I knew I wouldn't have to explain everything right then and there. The time between tending to Holmes and getting him to a doctor—Lestrade wisely convinced me to let someone else take charge—was blurry.

I seemed to break from my reverie while waiting on word about Holmes' condition after they'd rushed him into surgery. There was nothing else to do but wait, and I had little energy to do otherwise. I could hardly stand, and Lestrade seemed to know it. He and Sam stayed with me, offering what little comfort they could.

I should've known Mycroft would have arrived sooner or later. Lestrade must have contacted him while we waited. I was surprised when he asked to have a word alone with me, but Lestrade and Sam left and I had no choice.

"Doctor, I know this isn't your fault, but I've heard from Mrs. Hudson something of the tension that's between you two," Mycroft admitted in a quiet voice.

"I-I..." My voice broke and I closed my eyes and gathered my composure. "I was so wrong…"

I finally did lose my fragile control. Mycroft patiently waited and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. Around my rushing tears I managed to choke my heart's desire.

"I want him back."


	44. It is hard to wait

**_It is Hard to Wait_**

**-Watson's POV-**

There seemed to be no further need for words. Mycroft called in Lestrade and Sam, who rushed to my side when he saw my tears.

"John?"

"I'm alright… I just feel terrible," I replied to his query.

"You should rest. You've been out two nights in a row," Sam said.

"I have to know he's alright first," I said.

I might be able to sleep, but I would not be able to fend off the nightmares without Holmes there to comfort me when I woke.

Sam yawned.

"You go ahead home. I'll keep you updated," I told him.

"I can ma…" He yawned again. "Okay, maybe I should rest. Do keep me posted."

"Of course Sam," I said.

He left quietly and I leaned my head back against the wall and shut my eyes. A tear slid down my cheek and I didn't bother to wipe it away. My leg was sore again, probably from kneeling so long on the cold ground—not to mention bearing up Holmes's weight when he fell. I didn't care. I'd trade a lifetime of pain for Holmes.

I suddenly felt hungry, and my stomach announced that fact to the room.

"At least let me fetch you something to eat," Lestrade said. "You'll need your strength."

I nodded and Lestrade went to find an early breakfast.


	45. Only three days

**_Only Three Days_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I wasn't sleeping, but was startled when Lestrade touched my shoulder and offered me a plate. I recognized the dishes and looked up curiously.

"Mrs. Hudson was happy to warm a meal for us," he said by way of explanation.

I recalled the same thing being on my plate at supper. The plate I had scraped off out the window because I hadn't felt like eating. I'd missed three meals and had less then five hours sleep in the last three days. Had it really only been three days since Holmes had shaken me awake on that fateful morning? Felt more like an eternity.

I asked Lestrade for the time.

"Going on one," he replied.

_Three hours since the accident._ When would we hear something? Did I want to hear what would be said? I didn't know if I could face life without him.

I would wake up whenever he wanted. I would bear with every client. I would read the paper for him every day. I would go on every adventure. I would do everything it was in my power to do for him, if only he would pull through!

I was so full of so many mixed emotions and functioning on such low levels of food and sleep that I read the worst in the arriving doctor's furrowed brow.


	46. Bloody bullet in his hands

**_Bloody Bullet in His Hands_**

**-Mycroft's POV-**

"Good morning, gentlemen. Which of you is the kin of Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

The doctor was very young. He had an innocent look to him, ignoring the bloodstains on his apron.

"He's Sherlock's brother," Watson said, pointing at me.

"But this is his physician," I added, pointing at Watson. "He will be overseeing Holmes' recovery."

Watson looked at me gratefully. That said, he would be permitted to see Holmes. I also added that I would be responsible for the bill.

"Is he stable now?" Dr. Watson asked. "Will he make a full recovery? And the hip wound, did it shatter the bone? It looked close."

"We aren't sure he'll make a full recovery, but he's stable. No bones were shattered."

I heard Watson breathe a sigh of relief. I was glad my brother would live, but Watson looked even more glad.

"He is very fortunate. The shoulder wound went right through, but it was easy to clean and patch. The hip wound was bad—the bullet took some shirt in with it and it took great effort to remove. He lost a lot of blood."

Movement made me realize the doctor had something in his hand. Watson had seen it too; and, regardless of his medical training and his time in the war, he looked uncomfortable at seeing the bloody bullet.


	47. Too short a visit

**_Too Short a Visit_**

**-Watson's POV-**

The doctor noticed we had seen it and quickly passed it to Lestrade.

"This is in case you need to match it with the murder weapon, we don't have the other. I need to point out that the bullets entered the body from two different sides. The shoulder wound came from the back, and hip wound came from the front."

"Thank you, Doctor. That is helpful," Lestrade said.

"Can I visit him?" I asked

"If you come tomorrow about nine."

I wasn't going to give up that easy.

"Just one quick look," I pleaded.

"Alright, but he looks worse then he is," the doctor warned me.

Not that I needed the warning.

I followed the doctor down a hallway to a door. He opened it, but let me go alone. I approached the form of my friend slowly.

He was very pale and looked almost dead, and I had to touch his hand to reassure myself that he was, in fact, alive. His hand was chilly, but not deathly cold. I slid it under the blankets and pulled the covers up to his chin. His breathing was shallow and labored, but he seemed peaceful.

"I'll see you in the morning, old fellow," I whispered.

As I turned to go, I wished I did not have to leave my dear friend behind.


	48. Nightmares to withstand

**_Nightmares to Withstand_**

**-Watson's POV-**

Mycroft escorted me home, and Lestrade told me he would wait until I was ready to talk about the night's events. I promised him it would be soon, but my heart felt heavy as I thought about that awful task.

I reached home, and was so exhausted that I nearly fell down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson helped me the rest of the way. She claimed she couldn't sleep; and told me to sleep in Holmes' bedroom, rather then trudging up another flight of stairs. I couldn't take his room, but I didn't want to face more stairs. I was too dizzy and drained. Instead, I lay on the sitting room couch and was asleep almost instantly.

I woke early, with chills running down my spine. Nightmares plagued me; and when I found it was seven in the morning, I decided enough was enough. I tried to shut out the memory of the last dream, which I had woken from with tears sliding down my cheeks.

I was back in Afghanistan, walking through a battlefield. It was deadly silent and all around me were bodies. I had stopped beside one whose face was covered in bandages. Slowly I undid the bindings to reveal Holmes. I was suddenly up to my knees in blood…

Somehow, before leaving I managed to swallow some breakfast.


	49. Time to waste

**_Time to Waste_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I also changed clothes and washed off. I didn't really have the energy, but Mrs. Hudson convinced me to at least look decent, for Holmes. After this, I realized I still had an hour before nine.

The extra time should be put to some use, I thought. I decided to jot down some notes to send to Lestrade about last night's episode. I put the best description I could down of the man who had grabbed Matthew and his partner who had shot Holmes. I also put down Mr. Brown's name and what little I knew about him—including it was him who'd shot Holmes in the hip. He'd been aiming for the boy. I had no idea if the other bullet had been meant for him.

Writing usually didn't take so much out of me; but, when I was finally finished, I was beginning to feel the result of so little sleep the last few days. I looked at the time, and it was a quarter until nine.

_Close enough,_ I thought as I left Mrs. Hudson instructions to get the message to Lestrade.

I then went outside and had a debate with myself over whether or not to walk. The weather ended up making the decision for me. Rain poured down and thunder rumbled London when the storm broke.


	50. Who pays more for crimes

**_Who Pays More for Crimes_**

**-Mycroft's POV-**

Some glassware rattled as the thunder shook the building. It was a miserable day; made more so by the horrid events last night. I went to work as always, but had sent a message to the doctor to keep me informed of progress and send along the bill to me.

I was still wondering what provoked me to introduce Watson as Sherlock's brother. The thought hadn't occurred to me until the doctor had asked.

Watson had looked shocked, but later had thanked me profusely. I reminded him of my dislike of hospitals and told him that keeping me informed of Sherlock's condition would be more then enough thanks for what I'd done.

Besides, my brother was far closer to Watson then I. It was only logical that he, a doctor and close friend, would be the one permitted to visit Sherlock until he recovered. I was glad Watson was Sherlock's friend. I wasn't the right person for the job. My brother and I were not enemies, but not extremely close. He was still bitter about me being Father's favorite and we were both too wrapped up in our work.

Watson didn't seem to mind though. He followed Sherlock, gave him support and understanding—just what he needed. As I thought about this, thunder again announced its presence with a loud boom.


	51. Going to visit the victim

**_Going to Visit the Victim_**

**-Watson's POV-**

Mrs. Hudson had wisely given me my umbrella before I'd left, so the short walk into the hospital from the cab did not leave me soaked. I arrived at five until eight and met the doctor as he was leaving.

"Any change?" I asked.

"No, Doctor Watson," The doctor sounded thoroughly tired. His eyes were slightly red and his hair ruffled. "He's resting quietly." The doctor gestured at a nearby nurse who looked over at us. "Nurse, will you show him to Mr. Holmes' room?"

"Of course I will, Dr. White, she replied sweetly.

The doctor bid me good day and I thanked him. The nurse showed me to the room and checked a few things before leaving. She seemed to have trouble locating a pulse, and I quickly went over to help.

"Try putting you fingers there, right below the wrist. Slide them over a little more… there," I instructed.

"Thank you, I always seemed to have trouble with that," she said nervously. "I'll let you visit with him alone for awhile. He may be able to hear you speaking. Let us know if you need anything."

I smiled at her back as she left and then turned to Holmes. He had been sleeping peacefully, but now his face was twisted in pain and he seemed to struggle to breathe.


	52. Sorry ten times

**_Sorry Ten Times_**

**-Watson's POV-**

At first, I froze. But then realized he was still breathing, and it was no longer as ragged. I sighed, realizing_ I _had stopped breathing. I grasped his hand, glad that he calmed; though I knew I had not reacted like a good doctor. I had reacted in fear.

"Holmes? Take it easy. Try not to move," I whispered, hoping he heard and understood. "I'm so sorry," I continued, unable to contain what I needed to say. "I'm sorry I didn't join you that morning with Mr. Brown. I'm sorry I was unable to control my temper with that man. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I didn't go with you to watch the shop. I'm sorry I made you feel jealous of Sam… I'm sorry I couldn't mend things… I'm sorry you're in so much pain. I'm sorry, Holmes. I'm so sorry."

My voice broke. I was becoming hoarse; thanks to a lack of sleep and an abundance of worry, no doubt. I sat there for awhile, gripping his hand and calming him when he was in pain. It was frustrating to think that if he woke up like I dearly wanted him to, he would suffer more pain. I could dim the hurt, but not carry them for him, like I desired to. It was his burden.


	53. Pain is overwhelming

**_Pain is Overwhelming_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I could hear him, but I didn't know how to respond. I was disoriented, and my shoulder and hip burned. My only comfort was his voice, though it was filled with pain. I kept trying to find him. But every time I felt close, I was filled with pain. He was there though, soothing me whenever I was in pain.

I wondered where I was, and couldn't remember much. The last thing that was clear was the day I'd spent in my room after Watson had yelled at me.

How I wanted to tell him I did not blame him! I had been so wrong! I had not defended Watson when he was there to see it; instead letting him believe I was indifferent to the insults he'd taken from Mr. Brown. I had been so jealous of Sam that I'd caused Watson to choose between us. I had been so afraid of my own emotions that I hadn't mended things when I should.

Pain engulfed me and I groaned, clenching my teeth. Despite it all, Watson was there to comfort and care for me. I was loosing the struggle to focus on him, and I tensed as a sharp pain shot through my hip.

Then I felt a needle, and knew no more as I tumbled into blackness.


	54. A worthy defender

**_A Worthy Defender_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I watched as the doctor finished injecting the sedative and sighed.

"It's like he's fighting to regain consciousness too soon. He needs to rest," the doctor told me.

He had come when I'd finally decided to call for help. I had come to the same conclusion and blamed myself. It was time I left him to rest. As I made my way outside I found rain still pounding the ground. Soon this might become snow, if the cold was any indication.

I decided to visit Lestrade and get the unpleasant task finished. He was still at his desk, interviewing Mr. Brown. I guessed he was anxious to get this business over with. I slowly walked towards them, wishing I could just leave; but I had said I would tolerate Holmes' clients. I intended to keep my promise.

"How is he doctor?" Lestrade asked softly.

"He's doing better then the doctors expected," I said.

"He's a fighter. He'll pull through, and be tormenting those poor doctors before you know it," Lestrade said.

"He'll stay in bed until I say so, even if I have to chain him there," I replied.

"What gives you the right to?" Mr. Brown snapped.

"Mr. Brown, Dr. Watson is a trustworthy medical man and I'll see to it you will soon need one if you don't behave."


	55. Who comforts the ache

**_Who Comforts the Ache_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

Watson sent me a grateful look as I watched with satisfaction as Mr. Brown lowered his gaze submissively.

"Mr. Brown, are you through with your story?" I asked.

"Yes, I think I covered everything," Mr. Brown said.

"Then there is just one thing, I believe this is yours," I pulled out the bloody bullet that the doctors had removed from Holmes.

Mr. Brown looked at it, paled, and beginning to tremble. His lips twisted with disgust as he quickly back out and left, leaving me alone with Watson.

"That man is an absolute horror, Doctor. How the devil did you and Holmes put up with him?" I asked.

I must've asked the wrong thing, because Watson suddenly paled. I quickly came around my desk and helped him into a chair. He put his head in one hand, and I gripped his shoulder, wishing I knew how to comfort him.

"Lestrade, I did not put up with that client. I was not even with Holmes the night…" Watson broke off and swallowed. I could tell he was trying to hold back tears. "I was helping Sam Weaver, the man from last night. I refused to go with Holmes."

"Watson," I said, trying to sound firm, but gentle. "When certain things are out of your control, you cannot give yourself all the blame."


	56. With words so tender

**_With Words so Tender_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Lestrade, I yelled at him!" I said, louder then I should have. "The last thing I said to him was spoken in anger after he not only came with me, but offered me the chair…"

"Whoa, whoa, Watson, slow down! What the devil are you talking about?" Lestrade asked.

So I told him. I told him about not getting up when I was asked to, and how I had rudely left when Mr. Brown returned. I told him of meeting Sam, refusing to go with Holmes, and the next day agreeing to go with Sam. I told him about meeting Mr. Brown on our walk home and my shameful display of avoiding him. I told him of my outburst and staying in my room the rest of the day, leaving in the evening to rejoin Sam.

And Lestrade listened. He told me I had a right to avoid Mr. Brown and make friends with Sam. He told me there was a difference between waiting in the storeroom and watching from an alleyway—one was less conspicuous anyway. And he told me he was late to work the day after our night out—it was only natural to be tired.

I felt better as I left. The rain had departed leaving, the sun to warm the air. I was feeling much better.


	57. Awkward conversation

**_Awkward Conversation_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I had left Lestrade at two, made my way home for a slightly bigger meal than breakfast; and received a note from Sam telling me he had told Lestrade his story and that I was welcomed to stop by for dinner to meet Tom and Matthew. I knew I could visit Holmes beforehand and still make it to dinner. Besides, the quiet meals at home were disturbing. I missed company—especially a certain consulting detective.

I went back to the hospital, and the doctor who had helped me that morning greeted me cheerfully.

"Afternoon, Doctor. He's doing much better. I just looked in on him, go on in," Doctor Barrows, for that was his name, informed me.

I thanked him, and went into the room. I wondered if Holmes would struggle to wake again if I talked. The last thing I wanted was for him to be in pain. I decided to try, but to be cheerful.

"Afternoon, Holmes," I said, feeling awkward at the one-sidedness of the conversation. "I hear you're doing well. You missed a most wonderful meal this morning. I must tell Mrs. Hudson to make it for you when you come home."

I sat with him for two hours, talking about everything from the weather to recent events. Then I went to meet Sam and his brother.


	58. Uncomfortable dinner

**_Uncomfortable Dinner_**

**-Watson's POV-**

Sam greeted me kindly, and then held out his hand to introduce Tom and Matthew. Tom had his hands on the boy's shoulders, and Matthew stared at his feet. I assumed the boy was still shaken from last night.

I tried to be friendly, but Tom and Matthew seemed more than a little uncomfortable. We ate, and then Sam offered to walk me home. I accepted, glad for his company.

"How is he?"

"I hope he's improving…" I said with longing in my voice.

"How are you?" Sam said, stopping in front of me.

I looked up. "What do you mean?"

"John, I've seen that look before. It was in my brother's eyes three years ago... And last night."

Sam kept walking and I followed. We walked slowly.

"John, my brother blamed himself for his wife's death. He blames himself for his son's behavior." Sam looked up at me, eyes moist. "He has run himself ragged with blame. Please don't do the same."

I suddenly realized Sam was troubled by the events of his brother's life. He had said he and his brother were close. I had failed to notice just how much Sam was affected by all this. So worried about his brother, his nephew, or me, he covered up his own emotions and troubles behind a wall of brick.


	59. Realizing the pain

**_Realizing the Pain_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Sam," I said, stopping and clasping his shoulders. "What about you?"

He burst into tears. I embraced him, letting him release all of his withheld emotions.

"John, I can hardly believe what's happened. Tom has never been the same, and Matthew—I held him in my arms when he was only a babe—his actions are unbelievable!

"Sam, that boy needs guidance. Show him you care about him. He'll come around," I found myself saying, with some surprise. I was unused to talking about children, save for medical reasons, but the advice seemed right.

"Its hard, John. After Tom got sick, I felt so lost. He was so sick for so long… and Matthew would hardly speak to him or me. I assumed he was grieving for his mother, but after last night…"

"What happened last night?" I asked, hoping I wasn't prying.

"Tom told me everything, after I had gotten back. Matthew had fallen in with this group that his parents had disagreed with. Matthew disobeyed them one night by going out. His mother went looking for him… the carriage." Sam regained his composure and went on. "Matthew came back late that night to an empty house. His father later went back for him, but Tom never told him the truth—if Matthew had obeyed, his mother could still be—"


	60. The boys not a sinner

**_The Boy's Not a Sinner_**

**-Watson's POV-**

When Sam choked the second time, I held up my hand to forestall the rest of the story. "I understand, Sam. I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame Matthew entirely, though. I blame those that influenced him. They seemed to have tracked him down, and are assisting him to commit terrible crimes. I don't want Matthew to face a prison sentence; at least, not alone."

"I agree with you entirely."

"Will Lestrade look for them—the other men?"

"He might investigate for the attempted murder of the boy, but he can't prove they were influencing the boys."

"But if they confessed—"

"Are they likely to?" I asked. "If they are caught, it's very probable they will face a long time in prison already."

"But my nephew will face prison, too!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I don't see how he can escape it."

"I swear to you, John, I won't let the boy go down without seeing those other men go down with him."

I looked at Sam, realizing he meant every word.

We parted at the corner of Baker Street, and he turned for home. I watched him leave, then headed for home. However, by the time I got to the front step, I had made up my mind. I wasn't going home. I was going to Mr. Brown's.


	61. A landlady's tears

**_A Landlady's Tears_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

I was just heading into the office the morning after Watson's visit when I heard the sound of a very distraught lady call my name. I turned to see Mrs. Hudson rushing towards me, looking as though she had run the entire distance.

"Oh, Lestrade! You have to find him!"

"Watson? He's missing?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded, trying to catch her breath.

"Come inside. I'll need to ask a few questions," I said, ushering the tearful landlady inside. I had her seated and sent for some tea so she could relax before I questioned her.

"Now, Mrs. Hudson, when did you last see him?" I asked.

"After lunch yesterday, he was going out to see Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said.

"And was he upset?"

"No, he told me he was going to visit Holmes, then have lunch at Mr. Weaver's."

"Sam Weaver?"

"Yes, he warned me he would be late; so I went to bed. I woke up this morning, thinking he'd snuck back quietly to let me sleep, but he's not there!"

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"No."

"Might he have stayed at Mr. Weaver's?"

"I would think he would send word of his plans."

I knew she was right. And I also suddenly knew that, unless he turned up, Watson could be in a real bind.


	62. Now there's more pain

**_Now There's More Pain_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

My first step was one I had been avoiding. It only made sense that, when I visited Sam, I would have to take Matthew into custody. But unfortunately, Sam or his family might have been the last one to see Watson.

I grew nervous as I rode to their shop. I had four constables with me, and a carriage to transport the prisoner. I did not like having to arrest the boy, but he was a critical witness. He would need to testify, and in doing so he would probably jeopardize his own freedom. He wouldn't get long, the thefts were petty and he was a young lad; but it was still a shame.

As we pulled up, a man ran out and started screaming at us. "I'll kill you if you try to take Matty! I'll kill you!" he raved.

Sam followed him and wrestled him to the ground.. "No Tom!" Sam yelled.

At this point, I seriously questioned Tom's sanity. Sam looked up at me.

"Please, sir, forgive my brother. We are willing to cooperate for the boy's sake."

"I didn't come just to arrest him," I said. When Sam looked at me curiously, I added, "I came to find out what you know about Dr. Watson's disappearance."

I knew he was surprised and scared by how he blanched.


	63. Brother holding Brother

**_Brother Holding Brother_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

Tom had stopped struggling and Sam rose and came towards me. His face looked haunted, and he grasped my jacket in both hands.

"Tell me your lying! Please!" Sam begged.

"Sam, I will need a statement from you and your brother, and I'm afraid Matthew will have to come with me."

"Oh God, oh God!" Sam cried, sinking to his knees.

"Did you tell him Sam?" Tom cried. "Didn't you warn him?"

Sam was sobbing by this point, and Matthew had wandered out, looking concerned. Two PC's went towards him, but I sharply called them back.

"Let's all go in and talk." I said to Tom, who was lifting his brother back up to his feet.

Tom nodded. "Matthew, go fix some tea."

The boy nodded, looking at me nervously. I signaled the constables to wait outside and they took up positions by the door. I sighed, wishing that I didn't feel so certain the brothers had an idea of what had happened to Watson.

Tom led his brother to a chair and Sam practically collapsed in it. He put his head in his hands, taking unsteady breaths. Tom put his hand on Sam's shoulder, looking downcast. He pointed me to another chair and went to fetch one of his own.

Then they told me a story that was hardly believable.


	64. The top link in the chain

**_The Top Link in the Chain_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

As implausible at it was, it was clearly the truth. It was too elaborate to be a fabrication. Or so I thought. So I hoped.

Matthew brought down the tea as Tom started the story.

"So, my wife an I moved to France, taking Matthew with us. While we were there, we noticed Matthew was making friends with questionable characters."

"They were criminals," Matthew said.

"Can you tell me anything about them?" I asked.

"They were one gang in a larger organization. I never really figured out who was at the top, but I heard a name once—Moriarty."

I choked on the tea. Tom and Sam were looking at the floor. Matthew looked thoroughly abashed. "I only learned after the accident… who he is."

"And the two other men that were reported on the scene of the… accident?"

"They were part of the gang. Their aliases, at least the last I heard of, were Maurice and Claude Lefevre."

"They're related?"

"I don't think they really were, but maybe," Matthew said.

"And does Watson know of this?" I asked.

"No, not all of it," Sam said, taking up the story. "I told him I wanted those two arrested along with Matthew. He must have tried to go after them alone last night."

Now I couldn't deny that the situation looked bleak.


	65. An inspectors warning

**_An Inspector's Warning_**

**-Mycroft's POV-**

I had met Lestrade before; but knew little about him, other than the facts I deduced from his appearance when he entered the Stranger's Room at the Diogenes Club. For him to suddenly show up with the frightening news of Watson's disappearance not only surprised me, but the news itself worried me greatly.

"Why come to me? I know little of this matter."

"Because I know your brother will stop at nothing help get him back, and considering he is still recovering…"

I looked at the inspector with a new level of respect. He had correctly deduced what my brother would do, should he learn of Watson's disappearance. Lestrade had done well.

"But when Sherlock wakes up—and he will soon according to the doctors—he will question where Watson is. What would you have me tell him? What will he think if Watson doesn't show for days?"

"Just tell Holmes that Watson is resting or something. Hopefully, I will find Watson before Holmes becomes worried about his absence."

"You may find him, Inspector. But what if you don't find him alive?"

"Then we'll tell Holmes the truth," Lestrade said. I had to hide my smile when he added a second later, "and if Watson_ does _die, all crimials had better just turn themselves in, rather than tangle with your brother."


	66. The first place to look

**_The First Place to Look_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

Mycroft had asked some tough questions. The last one was particularly troubling. I decided I'd better get on with the investigation right away, and my first stop was obvious.

Mr. Brown's.

I never liked him. I didn't trust him, and Watson had seemed to dislike him as well. Whether that was because of instinct or insults, I couldn't know. But something told me not to trust Mr. Brown. I made my way to his shop, only faintly recognizing it. I entered he glared at me.

"I thought our business was finished," Mr. Brown snapped.

I almost wished I would have been a little friendlier earlier. It would have been nice to have him be cooperative.

"It was, then a new development led me to ask some more questions."

"Like what?" Mr. Brown said.

"Like, who was the visitor you had last night? What did you and the doctor talk about?"

"I had no visitor last night," I heard a thud coming from upstairs.

"Liar," I hissed. "Now, tell me the truth, what have you done with him?"

"I haven't seen since I was in your office," He said

"I never said it was Watson," I said, smiling now that I had caught him.

That is when I heard something behind me and I turned, only to be pistol-whipped into blackness...


	67. Damning foolishness

**_Damning Foolishness_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I kept damning my own foolishness. I never trusted Mr. Brown from the first, but it was pure stupidity that had caused me to go visit him alone. No word to anyone where I was going.

And with Holmes in the hospital, I wondered how long it would be before Lestrade found me. I trusted him to do his best. But I had learned something from my time as a soldier—unless you have something the enemy wants, you're as good as dead.

So that's why I was desperately trying to invent a story that would keep me alive. What did they have to gain from keeping me alive? Mr. Brown had wanted to get rid of me from the very beginning, that's why he had been so rude to me. He had been trying to drive Holmes and I apart.

And I had let it work.

I kicked the wall in frustration. My hands were bound and I was gagged. I was in a closed space surrounded by boxes. There was a window, blocked by boxes.

I was still fuming when the door was shoved open and two men threw Lestrade in. I was concerned that my hope for a rescue had just been captured too; but that was shadowed by my concern when I noticed Lestrade's head was bleeding.


	68. The life they almost took

**_The Life They Almost Took_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I wriggled over to Lestrade's side as the two men turned to leave. I managed to get into a sitting position next to him. I could not help the rage that burned within me.

"Damn you!" I shouted, surprised when they turned to look at me. "First you attempt to kill a boy, then you nearly kill my friend, you capture me, and now injure another of my friends. If I get the chance, I will kill you!"

One of them raised a gun and pointed it at me. I suddenly realized that I was going to die. After a speech like that, how could they afford to let me live?

Then the other one held up his hand and lowered the gun.

_"Non, il pouvait encore être utile," h_e said. All I understood was 'no.' He spoke too fast for me to even guess at what he said next.

The man who held the gun laughed menacingly, then they left. I looked down and was surprised to see Lestrade looking up at me. How much had he heard?

"Glad to see you're alright, Doctor," Lestrade said. "And if we get the chance, I won't stop you from making good on your threat."

I was relieved to see him awake, but I wanted to inspect the wound that adorned his brow.


	69. Things done for family

**_Things Done for Family_**

**-Mycroft's POV-**

Visiting Sherlock in the hospital was a minor inconvenience. Fabricating a lie to explain Watson's absence was a complete and utter nuisance. I worked out the minor details to make it seem more real just before I entered the hospital.

_The things I do for my little brother!_

But when I opened the door to his room and saw him laying there, my anger instantly faded. His brow was furrowed like he was in great pain. It reminded me of the time Holmes had broken his arm when we were children. He had been miserable and grumpy for weeks.

The nurse who was checking his pulse gave a sympathetic smile to me.

"How is he?" I asked, wondering if Sherlock would even be awake today.

"Doing well, considering his injuries," she replied softly.

"Has he woken up yet?"

"No, but the doctor thinks he probably will in a day or two," I was relieved, for a second.

"Which doctor?" asked a raspy voice from the bed.

Either he was asking which doctor would be foolish enough to assume Sherlock Holmes would stay asleep for the expected amount of time. Or he was asking about a certain doctor.

I expected, but hoped it wasn't, the latter. I did not look forward to my task, but sat down and took a deep breath.


	70. One of the best

**_One of the Best_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

When Mycroft began speaking, I hoped he was opening his mouth to tell me something useful; not drone on about how much I had worried everyone, especially a certain doctor.

"Where is he Mycroft?"

"Whoever do you mean? The boy…your assailants… Mr. Brown?"

"Watson!" I yelled, which hurt terribly. I winced and continued more softly. "Where is Watson?"

"Resting," was my brother's simple answer.

"Mycroft…" A dangerous tone crept into my voice. "Was Watson injured?"

"No, you were the only one."

"What happened?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't try to dodge that question.

"Dr. Watson and Mr. Weaver were following the boy. You and two others were watching the boy from your respective locations. From what Dr. Watson told me, you saved the boy from Mr. Brown and one of the mysterious fellows who were interested in the boy," Mycroft said.

"And Watson?"

"Helped keep you alive long enough to get you to a hospital, where he let the staff take over," Mycroft said.

"How long?" I asked, growing tired. I laid my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes.

"Two days," Mycroft said.

"I suppose the police have gotten involved?" I pressed.

"One of the better—Lestrade." Mycroft's response surprised me. Both of us rarely gave compliments. Though, I agreed with him; Lestrade was one of the better.


	71. Undoing the bonds

**_Undoing the Bonds_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

Watson was struggling with his bonds, which had uncomfortably pinned his hands behind his back. My bonds were similar, but I had been sternly warned by the doctor to not move. My head hurt terribly, and I wished I could assist the poor doctor; who, between the shock of almost being killed and my injuries—not to mention Holmes' injuries—looked ready for a good long rest somewhere other then busy London. He and Holmes needed a long vacation by some distant seashore…

"You'd better stay awake," Watson growled at me.

I looked over at him and decided it was best not to argue. He looked very frustrated and tired. I wondered if he slept at all last night.

"Watson, if you move over here, maybe I can untie you," I suggested.

It was worth a try, even though my hands were becoming very numb. He did as I suggested, and I started to fiddle with the tightly tied tethers.

I worked them for several minutes. I was soon satisfied when I managed to undo one of the knots. The other was simple to solve as well. Watson gasped and rubbed his wrists. When I looked over, I noticed his wrists were very red. Without a word, he ripped his pant leg.

"What are you doing?" I asked, shocked.

"Making a bandage."


	72. Waiting for a guest

**_Waiting for a Guest_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I must have fallen asleep, because I was startled awake when a nurse grabbed my arm. I jerked and pain jolted my whole body. I sucked in air as I winced.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes," mumbled the nurse.

"Do you have to check my pulse right now? I am alive you know!" I said sharply.

She backed away and left without another word. I suddenly felt very guilty. As irritating as it had been, she'd only been doing her job. I heard a knock on my door, and I hoped the nurse was back so that I could apologize.

It was the doctor. He was frowning as he entered, and without a word he took his stethoscope off his neck. He rubbed the end to warm it and gently listened to my breathing. I cooperated similarly, without a word.

"Did Dr. Watson visit?" I asked.

"Not today. He was in twice yesterday, though, and stayed half the night the day before. He wouldn't leave until he saw that you were still alive."

_Good old Watson._ Let him rest, he clearly deserved it.

The doctor turned to leave, but before he reached the door I called to him. "Could you please apologize to that nurse for me? I did not mean to be so callous."

He nodded, and I saw a smile beginning.


	73. Hopeless escape

**_Hopeless Escape_**

**-Watson's POV-**

After I looked over the wound and decided it was not too serious, I bandaged it and untied Lestrade. He smiled gratefully, but I could tell he was concerned. He seemed to be trying to think of a plan, but he too seemed to be drawing a blank.

"We could lure them in here. Then try to take them," Lestrade suggested.

I hated to be a rain cloud, but I could see the hopelessness in that idea.

"With you wounded and both of our arms numb, we'd hardly stand a chance against them."

"We could wait awhile, regain some strength," Lestrade said.

"Even so, they have guns, and I haven't eaten recently," I replied.

I tried to stop my hands from shaking, but I was growing weak; regardless of the little energy I had spent. I had eaten little at Sam's, and that seemed weeks ago.

Lestrade looked at me sympathetically. "Sorry, Doctor."

"It's alright, its not your fault. If I hadn't been such fool—"

"No, Doctor, you aren't the fool. You were trying to help Sam."

"Did you talk to him?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, and I had the unpleasant duty of arresting Matthew." Lestrade then added quietly, "Sam was really upset."

"It is his nephew."

"No, I mean when he heard that you had vanished," Lestrade clarified. "He looked terribly bereft."


	74. Audible Relief

**_Audible Relief_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"He did?" I asked quietly.

"He really is a good friend," Lestrade said. "You're fortunate to know him."

"I know. Believe me, I know," I whispered.

We heard footsteps coming towards the room. I suddenly steeled myself for the worst. I hoped Holmes would forgive me… I hoped he'd remember me kindly…

The door opened and two bowls of watery stew were shoved in, followed by two cups of water. My sigh of relief was all too audible. Lestrade looked over at me.

"You all right, Doctor?"

"Yes," I managed to gasp.

We soon were propped up against boxes, sipping the stew slowly. I saved most of my water; and, when Lestrade finished his stew, I went over to clean the wound to the best of my ability. Lestrade must have understood my intentions, because he raised his hands to forestall my approach.

"No, you drink that, Doctor. I'll be alright."

"I'm the doctor."

"Yes, I know. So follow the saying 'heal thyself doctor.'"

"But I'm not injured."

"Just starving."

"Really, Lestrade—"

"Doctor, I may be injured, but I'm sure I can force that water down your throat."

I didn't give him the chance to try. When I finished the water, I tried to stand and stretch my legs a little; but I was suddenly shocked by how dizzy I had become.


	75. Going to the rescue

**_Going to the Rescue_**

**-Mycroft's POV-**

When Lestrade had left, he'd told me he'd send regular reports as to his progress. When six o'clock struck with no word from him, I went to Scotland Yard to inform them it was likely Lestrade had fallen in the same trap as Dr. Watson.

I thought no less of him. He was up against some brilliant criminal minds, including Mr. Brown. I loathed the man. I had not met him, but as I made my way to his shop, accompanied by Inspector Gregson and at least a dozen strong constables, I knew he was somehow behind the doctor and inspector's disappearance. And, somehow, he was connected to the robberies as well.

It was a shame I was not in posssession of all the facts. My brother had fallen asleep before I had a chance to get them all. I did not want to wake him; he'd looked so tired.

We arrived at Mr. Brown's. And, while the police and Inspector Gregson headed into the shop, I stood looking around. I saw the alleyway my brother must have been watching the shop from.

I heard voices raised from inside and went to see what Gregson had found, hoping Watson was found and all right.

Suddenly, a voice shouted from the second story. "Stop! Or I'll put a bullet in this one's brain!"


	76. Causing grief

**_Causing Grief_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

"Stand down!" I yelled at Gregson and the constables with him.

I looked at Watson, who was being held up by the blonde fellow. He looked totally exhausted. I saw no fear in his eyes though. Whether he just trusted the situation would turn out all right or he was too tired to care I didn't know.

"Let's talk about this reasonably," I said, trying to think of a way to get Watson out of the way.

"I'm getting out of London, even if I have to take him with me," The blonde man said.

"He's exhausted. He'll only slow you up," I said.

The blonde man seemed to consider for a moment. Looking at Watson, who had closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he met my gaze and gave a little half smile of reassurance.

"He'll keep up, if he wants to live."

"Not likely. He'll collapse, and you won't have a hostage anymore," I said. "You might as well just cooperate, rather then adding resisting arrest to your charges."

The blonde man growled dangerously. He was interrupted from his decision when a sharp cry was heard.

"What was that?" the blonde demanded.

I heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs and Mycroft appeared in the doorway with his gun raised to another man's back.


	77. Mr Brown is in irons

**_Mr. Brown is in Irons_**

**-Watson's POV-**

"Claude!" said the man holding me. I felt the barrel of the gun pressed harder against my head. "Let him go," my captor said.

Mycroft snarled, but lowered the gun, allowing Claude to go free. To my absolute surprise, Claude did not move. He looked at his companion firmly.

"Maurice, enough. Let him go. This won't help us," Claude said.

"We can make it, Claude."

"I won't try. This is madness."

I felt the barrel of the gun slide away from my head, and I was pushed roughly to the floor. I just barely caught myself; and, as I started to get up, I found Lestrade in front of me, offering his hand. He helped me to my feet and we left the room. Mycroft joined us, leaving Gregson to arrest the two men.

"So those were Claude and Maurice Lefevre," Lestrade said.

"Who?" I asked, leaning heavily on him.

"Matthew knew them in France. He filled me in on their deeds. They'll probably face a hard sentence back home," Lestrade said. "Sam was really worried about you. We should probably let them know you're all right. And I'm sorry, but I'll have to get a statement from you before I let you go home."

"That's alright," I said.

We walked downstairs and I was pleased to see handcuffs on Mr. Brown.


	78. Too tired to think

**_Too Tired to Think_**

**-Watson's POV-**

We had a seat while Lestrade took some notes. Mr. Brown was being interrogated on the other side of the room. When Lestrade finished, we simultaneously looked at Mycroft.

"And Holmes?" we both asked, looking at one another then back at Mycroft.

"Sherlock woke up earlier," he said. "He asked about you, Doctor."

I swallowed nervously. "What did you tell him?"

"What I was told to tell him," Mycroft said with a look at Lestrade. "That you were resting."

"Lestrade?" I said questioningly.

"You know how he is, Doctor. If he knew you had disappeared…"

"You're right, of course, I don't want to think about it," I said, yawning.

"Go home and get some rest, Doctor."

"Will you send a note to Sam for me?" I asked.

"Sure." Lestrade said, handing me the notepad he'd just been scribbling on.

I jotted down a quick message and handed it back to Lestrade.

"Can you see him back?" Lestrade asked Mycroft.

"Certainly," the elder Holmes said, rising.

I was too tired to protest being escorted. I fell asleep during the ride back to Baker Street. Mycroft gently woke me and saw me to the door. Mrs. Hudson kindly didn't press me for details, just helped me upstairs and I fell asleep on the settee. This time, there were no dreams. Simply quiet bliss…


	79. A guest for breakfast

**_A Guest for Breakfast_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I was awoken by a clang; and, for a moment, the past few days' events were forgotten. I thought I had dozed off on the sofa, and was being woken by Holmes eating breakfast. The first assumption was correct, but the second was slightly off. It wasn't Holmes, it was Sam.

He looked over at me sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm really clumsy this morning."

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Hudson let me up. I told her I intended to wait on the steps until you woke up. She said I might as well have some breakfast."

"Well, it's good to see you," I said, getting up and coming over to the table.

Mrs. Hudson had laid out a large spread. I realized how hungry I was and started filling my plate.

"You're not angry?"

"Angry about what?" I asked

"My being here. I just had to see that you were alright, in person you know," Sam said.

"Not in the least. I'll be leaving shortly to see Holmes, though."

"That's alright," Sam said. "I won't stay long."

After a few moments of silence, I sighed. "I am sorry about Matthew."

"I think this'll be a good lesson for him. I hate to see him go through it, all the same."

"Of course," I agreed, reaching for a second biscuit.


	80. Some gratitude for fate

**_Some Gratitude for Fate_**

**-Watson's POV-**

True to his word, Sam left shortly after breakfast. I'd promised, at his bidding, to keep him updated on Holmes' condition.

Mycroft sent me word that Holmes had been awake the day before and was asking about me. While it was gladdening to hear, I was nervous about seeing him. We had not been on speaking terms the last he was at home, and I did not quite know what I'd say to him.

I would apologize, of course; but would he forgive me? Could things ever go back to the way they were? Would he want them to?

I quickly chastised myself about my doubts. Of course things would turn out for the best. They_ had_ to.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but reflect on how horrid I had been to him. He had been a friend and companion for me when I was alone. I would have probably never recovered as well as I have without him and his puzzles to make my life interesting. I never really realized before how important a role he had played in my life. He was not an easy companion to get along with, but he was a welcome relief from the boring doldrums of life.

I could have been stuck with someone worse then Holmes and—selfishly—I'd forgotten to count my blessings.


	81. A wish for company

**_A Wish for Company_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I was up at six, and was forced to have some breakfast that was definitely not up to Mrs. Hudson's standards. I was gloomy and confined to bed without any of the comforts of home. I wondered when Watson would visit. Was he still too angry?

Memories of our confrontation flooded back to me, and I wondered if he would ever find it in himself to forgive me. I had acted wrongly, I could admit that; but loosing Watson would be unbearable.

Fair, perhaps, but unbearable.

I tried to figure out how much mobility I had. My left hip hurt terribly, and I couldn't move my right arm at all. I had been told to stay still, but I rarely do as I'm told.

Though a certain doctor could always manage to earn my—reluctant—obedience.

I moved my left leg and grunted with pain.

"Mr. Holmes, you'll never recover at the rate you're going," called the doctor from outside my door.

I bit back at curt reply and sighed, turning my head in the pillow. I wished I could see out the window on the wall behind me, but the small glimpse only showed the London skyline. I hoped Watson would visit today. I wanted to see him, to apologize for everything that had transpired since this case began.


	82. Going to be late

**_Going to Be Late_**

**-Watson's POV-**

It was bad enough that I had a headache from my recent adventures. But, combined with the dizziness, I had to decide against going to see Holmes at that very moment. Mrs. Hudson was insistant on calling another doctor, but I told her to let me administer to myself for a little while and see if it would clear itself up.

She obeyed grudgingly.

I couldn't sleep, even though I knew it would be beneficial. I wanted to take up a pen to write to Holmes and tell him I would come, but my eyes were leaden and I could only lay on the settee, daydreaming.

It was several hours—and doses of a mild pain-killer—later that I began to feel well enough to begin to get ready to leave. Mrs. Hudson forced a lunch down my throat, but I hardly tasted the food. I was torn between anxiety and excitement. I wanted to see Holmes, I was determined to see him, but I didn't know what to say.

I stood up and resolutely marched to fetch my coat and cane.

_No matter the words, so long as I see him,_ I thought, bidding Mrs. Hudson a good day as I left.

But I decided to walk instead of ride, to clear my head and take in the day's beauty.


	83. A friend's advice

**_A Friend's Advice_**

**-Lestrade's POV-**

I had a headache the next morning, so I took the day off. I decided to stroll, and was surprised to run in to Watson; on the way to visit Holmes, presumably.

"Watson?" I called, and he turned to acknowledge me.

"Lestrade, good to see you. Are you all right?" he asked, clearly concerned about the bang on the head I had taken.

"I'm fine," I replied. "Going to see Holmes?"

"Yes, I… I don't know what I will say," he said.

"Watson, can I give you a piece of advice?" I asked.

He looked over. "Certainly. I would welcome some advice."

"I have known Holmes for some while, and I have known him to be a good man. A stubborn man, but a good one. You are the only man I've known to be able to draw that goodness out into a friendship. I don't think it will go to waste easily. Be patient with him, and if he gives you any trouble I'll come and knock some sense into him."

He laughed, looking a little more lighthearted. "Thank you, Lestrade. I hope I can count you among my friends as well."

"Of course," I said, proffering a hand and he shook it warmly.

We walked together for a little while longer. And, when we parted, he looked much brighter.


	84. Worries plague a detective

**_Worries Plague a Detective_**

**-Holmes's POV-**

I passed the morning trying to read the paper—one handed—and occasionally dozing. By mid-afternoon, I assumed he wasn't coming. Never mind what Mycroft said, Watson wasn't resting—he was avoiding me.

_ With good reason._

The doctor kept coming back into my room, acting like he was trying to be of some comfort. He realized what was bothering me, and occasionally tried to made small-talk. The nurses seemed to try to handle me as little as possible; and, when I was in serious pain, they called the doctor to see to me.

"He was here yesterday?" I asked him.

"No, twice the day before. And the entire night you were injured. He demanded to see you, and I allowed it against my better judgment."

"Why against your better judgment?" I asked.

"He got pale when he saw the bullet. I didn't know if the sight of you would set him to fainting," the doctor explained.

Watson had witnessed all the bloodshed and horrors of battle, and the doctor had worried about him fainting? I began to wonder if I was wrong, if Watson was just resting and he would be in soon. Maybe he wasn't avoiding me at all… Maybe he was worn out, with good reason.

Movement from the doorway interrupted my train of thought. And there was my Boswell.


	85. Off to an awkward start

**_Off to an Awkward Start_**

**-Watson's POV-**

He'd seen me. I didn't know what to say, and neither did he. The doctor looked from one to the other and back again.

"Well, I'll just be going, then," he said, nodding to me as he left.

Someone had to say something. I was tired of the awkward silence. I assumed it might as well be me, since he was injured.

"Good to see—"

"I was beginning—"

We both started talking at the same time. We broke off, insisting that the other go first.

"No, go ahead," he said to me for the third time.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. "It's good to see you up."

"I was up yesterday," he said. The small hint hurt.

"I'm sorry I was—"

"Resting?" he finished.

"I'm sorry, my nightly vigils took a lot out of me."

I hated to lie, but I saw no way around it. For now, Holmes would have to remain none the wiser. Someday I would tell him, but not right now.

"Must have, to keep you asleep for over twelve hours."

He was offended. We were both tense. Part of me wanted to leave. Part of me wanted to grasp him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him I would have come, I would have been here, if not for the thugs. I would have been…


	86. From a different perspective

**_From a Different Perspective_**

**-Holmes's POV-**

I realized I had offended him, and regretted it.

"Watson, I'm sorry. I…" I choked for a moment. "I was worried when you didn't come."

"I'm sorry too, Holmes… I would have come—" he started, but I waved him into silence.

"No, take care of yourself. I have a feeling I'll need your help in the days to come."

"Will you want it?"

I looked at him. "Watson, I need it," I whispered. "Please."

"I won't refuse you."

I accidently jerked and caused the pain in my shoulder to flare. I gasped and Watson was instantly there, advising me to lay still and take deep breaths.

"Holmes, just relax… that's it. Should I fetch the doctor?"

"No, please, just… sit down," I said weakly.

He did as I asked and I was grateful. "You should try to rest. I can wait."

"No, Watson… I'm sorry I took that damned case!" I said, clenching the sheets.

"Holmes, its fine. We both sort of 'took the case'— just from opposite ends."

I liked his view. I decided to try to ease this conversation.

"So what have you been up to—besides resting?" I asked, genuinely interested.

He shifted at the unexpected change in conversation. "I told Lestrade everything."

I caught his smile as he added, "And he matched up one of the bullets."


	87. Small talk is easier

**_Small Talk is Easier_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I began to feel better as we made small talk. It was easier to ignore the tension over the last few days. I told Holmes about Mr. Brown's behavior while we were in Lestrade's office the other day.

"Watson, something is up with that man. Be on your guard," Holmes said.

_Now he tells me._ I didn't say that Mr. Brown had been arrested.

"Watson?" Holmes looked concerned when I didn't answer. "He hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

He looked like he would get up and go thrash Mr. Brown himself if I said 'yes'.

"No, I was just thinking," I replied. "I guess I knew he was trouble from the start."

Holmes gave a quiet chuckle, and I was relieved to see him so lighthearted. My eyes suddenly noticed the paper sitting by Holmes' leg. I prayed that my little escapade wasn't reported. That was the last thing Holmes needed.

"What?" Holmes asked, following my gaze. "There's absolutely nothing in there. I think Mycroft has the doctors hiding certain sections from me."

I smiled at Mycroft's thoughtfulness, but I saw Holmes glare at me.

"I see you are also involved in the whole plot to keep me in the dark, as well," Holmes said darkly, though his eyes betrayed his playfulness as he stared at me from his bed.


	88. No doctor better than you

**_No Doctor Better Than You_**

**-Watson's POV-**

I stayed with him for several hours, continuing our small talk. He didn't ask many questions, for which I was grateful. I asked him a bit about the night he got his injuries, and he explained about how he had felt me tending to him before we reached the hospital.

"I wanted no other doctor, you know," he said. "I trust you."

I sent him a warm look that said more then words ever could. Holmes began to grow tired, and I talked softly, watching him nod off. When his eyes stayed closed and his breathing became long and steady I stopped talking and just sat with him.

Shadows lengthened and I watched him sleep, thinking of everything. The doctor came in, checking Holmes over quietly.

"He wants to go home," the doctor said.

I was unsurprised since Holmes hated hospitals.

"When would be best for him?" I asked.

"Four to six weeks, but I don't think that will go over well."

"Two days?" I asked, figuring by then at least I could have made arrangements with Anstruther to take over my patients so I could devote my full attention to Holmes.

"That would be alright. I'll make arrangements to get him transportation," the doctor said.

"Thank you," I said, grateful for his understanding.

Slightly tired, I leaned my head back.


	89. Pages are missing from the paper

**_Pages are Missing from the Paper_**

**-Holmes' POV-**

I woke the next morning, and suddenly became aware that I had fallen asleep while Watson was talking. Guilt filled me, but then I felt a small piece of paper folded and pressed into the palm of my hand. I opened it, a smile forming as I recognized Watson's handwriting.

_Holmes, _

_ I knew you were tired, so I didn't want to wake you. Sorry. The doctor and I have made plans to move you back to Baker Street in two days, so try to be nice to the staff until then. Be back around at about noon. _

_ –Watson_

Well, at least he was getting me out of here. I had a better appetite now, and ate more than half of the breakfast. I again scanned the dull paper; which I now realized was missing several pages. Deaths, police reports, anything that might have held my interest was gone.

And the man responsible actually showed up to visit me.

"Mycroft," I said, scowling at my elder brother.

"Sherlock, you really must stop making that face. You look like you are four again," Mycroft said.

"How long are you planning to hide news from me?" I asked.

"Watson can decide, since he's the doctor," Mycroft said.

"You all are keeping secrets from me," I complained.

My brother grinned. "Only until you get better."


	90. He needs more things to do

**_He Needs More Things to Do_**

**-Watson's POV-**

The days leading up to Holmes coming home were busy. I spent most early afternoons with Holmes, who was becoming more and more troublesome as he asked difficult questions. I was finding ways to avoid answering them, but it was still difficult to keep things from him, even if it was in his best interest.

In my spare time I started getting ready for Holmes' return. I had to buy new supplies to dress his wounds, and I got his room ready for him to have an easy time reaching things he would want. Mrs. Hudson helped me set up a table on one side of Holmes' bed so I could put things there for him to occupy himself. I didn't put his pipe out. I would make him wait before picking up_ that _habit again.

I put out some reading material—an assortment of chemistry books and criminal information. No new information, but I managed to gather some material on other solved cases for him to read. They might occupy his mind for a while, or they may make him miss his cases. I also put out pen and paper, just as an afterthought.

I knew he would get bored. It was hard to know what else to provide him with. I decided to go to Sam's store to browse.


	91. A puzzle to distract and invalid

**A Puzzle to Distract an Invalid**

**-Watson's POV-**

When I reached the store, both Sam and Tom greeted me kindly. I explained about Holmes getting easily bored and Sam snapped his fingers.

"I know just what he needs," he said, going towards a shelf a little ways away.

Tom smiled. "He's got the energy in the family."

"How's Matthew?" I asked.

"Doing good. We're trying to get the police to let him stay with us under the promise that he won't try to leave town," Tom said.

"I'd be happy to help, if you need any," I said. "Since I'm a principle witness, I might be able to speak in his defense."  
Tom looked at me, the gratitude plain in his expression. "I would be very obliged if you would."

"Here you go, John!" Sam called, bringing forward two wooden shapes.

I looked at them, a little perplexed how they would occupy my friend.

"They're Burr Puzzles," Sam explained.

"Puzzles?" I echoed, taking one to examine it.

"See how it's different pieces of wood interlocking? There is a trick to disassembling it, and then assembling it again. He should be plenty busy with these for a few days," Sam said.

A part of me wondered if Holmes would really be occupied but such a trivial puzzle, but then I decided he would have to make do.

"I'll take both."


	92. The preparations are complete

**The Preparations are Complete**

**-Holmes' POV-**

It was a quiet evening the day before I was to go home, and I was just finishing my dinner when Watson returned. I hastened to swallow and nearly choked. Watson came over, looking worried, but I took a couple sips of water and nodded reassuringly.

"I didn't realize I would startle you that much," Watson teased, but he still couldn't fool me. Something was going on, something he wasn't telling me.

"I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow," I said, becoming used to his habit of visiting in the morning and early afternoon and not returning until the next day. But I relished his company.

"I finished getting ready for tomorrow, and decided to come see if there was anything else you wanted," Watson said.  
"I'm sure everything is perfect."

Watson's eyes narrowed. "Oh, come on, Holmes. You always get bored when you're stuck in bed."

"I'm sure that is unavoidable," I reasoned.

"Is there anything that would make it easier?"

If you were finally open to telling me what has been going on, I thought.

Out loud, I said, "If I think of anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

Neither of us seemed to be in much of a mood to converse, so he didn't stay long. When he left, I let out a long breath.


	93. The journey has begun

**The Journey Has Begun**

**-Watson's POV-**

The day dawned bright and clear, with no threat of rain and warmer than it had been in a while. I was up before eight, and at the hospital before nine. It was still a little while before we were going to move him, but the doctor seemed to be checking the patient extra-carefully this morning.

Holmes smiled in greeting at me around the doctor's head and the doctor looked up.

"Well, he seems to be doing well. If you ever need any advice or assistance, feel free to call on me," the doctor reported, finishing his examination and leaving Holmes and I alone.

"Ready?" I asked, looking at him.

"Of course," he gave me an amused look, like my question had been quite foolish.

I suppose it was, considering Holmes hated hospitals.

We made small talk for about a half-hour, and then the doctors came in to give him a heavy sedative and painkiller. The journey would be uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

He soon fell unconscious and two men came to put him on a stretcher. We got him to the large wagon the hospital had for moving patients. He was placed on a raised platform in the middle and the doctor and I sat on benches on either side. The wagon started down the road.

And so the journey began.


	94. The Doctor will get him back on his feet

_**The Doctor will Get Him Back on His Feet**_

**-Watson's POV-**

Once we reached 221B, Mrs. Hudson moved ahead of us to open doors and fold down the blankets to Holmes' bed. I followed in the rear, shutting the front door on my way in. I walked up to the bedroom slowly, and then moved aside to let the stretcher-bearers and Mrs. Hudson out. I went in, shutting the door behind me and watched the doctor check Holmes over.

"Since he'll be unconscious for awhile, want me to change his bandages with you, this time?" he offered.

He knew I could do it, I had told him my service record.

"I would appreciate the help."

We started with his hip, since it was closest. We peeled off the bandages and I found it hard to look at the wound, which seemed to be healing slowly.

"You alright?" the doctor asked when I paused.

"I'm fine. It's just hard to see him so badly injured," I said.

"You two are close friends, aren't you?" the doctor guessed.

I nodded. "Yes, we've been sharing these rooms since '81. I've seen him through many injuries he's managed to get."

"He seems like he can be a little reckless."

"Definitely," I agreed.

"He's in good hands with you," the doctor said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

I smiled and finished helping him change the bandages.


	95. The reason for the titles revealed

_**The Reason for the Titles Revealed**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

I woke up with a start. I had been dreaming when suddenly I fell, jolting me awake.

"Are you feeling well?" Watson asked.

He was sitting nearby, a book in his hands, looking at me with concern.

"Fine," I replied. I didn't tell him about the dream.

My wounds were a little sore, but I did not tell him that either.

"What are you reading?" I asked, trying to get a view of the cover.

He held it up, one finger marking his page. "More sailing stories."

_More? _I was not aware that he had read any. The title was _The High Seas and Deep Depths_. I narrowed my eyes, remembering banter between Watson and Mrs. Hudson.

"Is that what you meant?" I wondered.

"What?" Watson asked, thoroughly confused.

I hadn't realized I had spoken out loud.

"When you and Mrs. Hudson were calling each other Captain and Lieutenant." I said.

Watson sighed, looking as though he was trying to remember. "Oh, the day I left you and Mr. Brown in the sitting room, I went out and bought a model boat. Mrs. Hudson and I were joking about sailing, thus the titles."

"Oh," I said.

I remembered thinking that Watson was venting his frustration about Mr. Brown's slur.

"You were the First Mate," Watson added, looking down at the book.


	96. A puzzle is harder than it seems

_**A Puzzle is Harder Than It Seems**_

**-Watson's POV-**

I had totally forgotten the navy titles until Holmes mentioned them. It seemed like so long ago, and I wondered why he'd asked about it. He seemed satisfied about something, like he had been curious about that conversation between Mrs. Hudson and I. I decided not to press him for details about why he was so interested, since he looked groggy from the soporifics.

"I put out some stuff for you to do on that table," I said.

I saw Holmes's eyes look over to where I pointed. He got his left hand out from under the sheets and reached for one of the burr puzzles with a long arm.

"What are these?" he asked, examining it with his eyes full of curiosity.

"Burr puzzles. You have to figure out how to take it apart and put it back together," I said.

He gave me a look as if the idea of such a toy was too easy for his sharp mind to be entertained by it. Holmes tugged on one piece and it moved a little, only to be blocked by another. He tried moving that piece and the same thing happened. I saw his eyes light up with a challenge, and the next couple hours passed in silence as he concentrated on his puzzle and I watched the battle.


	97. A week before he can start to rise

_**A Week Before He Can Start to Rise**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

After a half-hour struggle, I finally slammed the puzzle down on his bed. Watson looked at me, and I could tell he was trying to hide his amusement. I had never expected to be bested by a simple toy, but my progress testified to their difficulty. I met Watson's eyes and I must have glared at him, because he quickly looked away and started muttering an apology.

"No, no! It's all right, I enjoy the mental exercise," I hasted to reassure him that I was not angry with him for getting them for me.

He gave a little half smile and rose to stretch.

"When can I get up?" I asked.

Watson fixed me with a look. I comprehended that he had been very concerned for me, and was struggling to come up with an answer that would compromise our different wishes.

"If you promise to follow my orders and not push yourself too hard, I'll see about sitting you up in a week. Following that, we'll see about standing," Watson said finally.

I decided it was best to accept that offer. A week was not long before I could sit up, though I just hope my wounds were better by then.

Watson smiled warmly. "So in a little over a week, and you can try to get out of bed."


	98. Holmes is back to old schemes

_**Holmes is Back to Old Schemes**_

**-Watson's POV-**

Our deal did not go according to plan. When I had said 'follow my orders' I'd meant all of them, but Holmes stubbornly refused dinner, saying he was not hungry. Granted, he might not have been. He was not expending as much energy as what was normal for him. All the same, I insisted that he have at least some of the plate Mrs. Hudson had made.

"Doctor, I am not hungry!"

"Holmes, this is your last meal before bed. You should eat now, so you don't wake up hungry in the middle of the night," I implored him.

"I don't care," Holmes said.

I knew that look I saw in his eyes. There would be nothing going down his throat tonight, and at this rate nothing the following morning either.

"Holmes, you promised," I said flatly, my voice revealing the hurt I felt.

He would never willingly take my advice about his health. He hated to admit that I might know something. But how often had his life been hinging on the fact that I knew how to fix whatever damage had been done?

"I know when I'm hungry and when I'm not, Doctor. I'm not a child!"

"And I'm tired of this," I said softly.

I simply turned around and walked into the sitting room, shutting the door behind.


	99. He was hungrier than he thought

_**He was Hungrier Than He Thought**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

I stared at the closed door in surprise. He had never conceded an argument—especially concerning my health—so quickly. It was almost as though he really didn't care what I did. I tried to convince myself that I did not need him to care, but I knew otherwise. I had just made a foolishly arrogant mistake, one that one widened the ever-noticeable gap between us.

I looked at the plate he had left. I didn't want it because I was slightly nauseous, but I had not been able to say that to Watson. I hated this feeling, and I suspected it was the sleeping drugs earlier. I hated to feel weak, but Watson seemed bound and determined to seek out and treat my ailments and injuries.

And why not? Because I was worried he might do his job and try to help?

_Just as I sought out puzzles to test my brain, _I thought.

I began to feel guilty. It was his job; his great mission in life was to treat the ill or injured. I was the worst of patients. In a way, like Mr. Brown was the worst of clients.

I decided that I could stomach some dinner after all, and once I started eating I found that I was hungrier than I thought. I even ate the broccoli.


	100. Send one to my brother

_**Send One to My Brother**_

**-Watson's POV-**

When I returned to Holmes' room I was surprised to see he'd eaten everything, including the broccoli he claimed to hate so much. I just stood there blinking while Holmes smiled at me.

"I was hungrier than I thought," he explained.

"See? I_ do_ know best," I said, looking at him with a smile.

I had not expected to find him is such a good mood, but was also glad. Maybe now we could start getting along better?

I had Mrs. Hudson remove the plate, and Holmes asked me if I had eaten. I didn't reply, but blushed, and Mrs. Hudson answered for me that I had not. Holmes, turning the tables on me, made me sit in his room and eat every bite on the plate Mrs. Hudson made.

"Happy now?" I asked. I would have eaten, but apparently Holmes didn't think so.

"Yes," Holmes said, with a satisfied smirk.

He reached for his puzzles again, but tried the other one this time.

"Any luck?" I asked, watching him.

"Watson, would you kindly do me a favor?" Holmes asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, but nodded.

"Of course, Holmes. Anything."

Holmes grinned mischievously at me for a moment before looking at the puzzle again. "Do be a good fellow and go buy another. And send it to my brother."


	101. The rules are sometimes broken

_**The Rules are Sometimes Broken**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

Sam stopped by the next day to let us know how things were going. The case was to go to trial at the end of next week. I was determined to be out of bed by then so that I could observe the proceedings and mentioned as much to Watson.

He eyed me warily. "I did promise you could start getting out of bed by next week, but I don't like the idea of you going out. Your injuries still need to heal."

"Watson, I must be there," I said.

He seemed to understand and nodded.

"Very well," Watson sighed.

I could see he was still worried about me. But, more so than that, I could see he was still very tired. He looked exhausted in a way I couldn't understand. Something was still bothering him. Something I still wasn't being told about.

So I did the only thing a sensible man would do. I pried.

I scribbled a note to Lestrade, pretending to be Watson. I had become quite good at faking his handwriting—not that Lestrade would pay much attention to such small detail. I asked the inspector to kindly send a copy the official report as to what happened. Normally, the police did not share reports; but for my fellow lodger, or me, the rules were sometimes broken.


	102. Patience with puzzles grows thin

_**Patience with Puzzles Grows Thin**_

**-Watson's POV-**

Holmes was quiet during dinner, and I wondered what was troubling him. I hoped he wasn't too preoccupied about the trial, because I had no doubt attending would tax his health to a dangerous level. Well, dangerous as far as a medical man was concerned, but I had learned a while ago that Holmes' limits were not those of a normal man. Or so he liked to think.

Still, his quiet mood didn't concern me, yet. He often drifted into silence on occasion; and I never disturbed him, since he usually returned to his normal self once his brain had worked out whatever problem had presented itself to him.

After dinner he reached for a puzzle, and again devoted himself to solving it. I picked up my book, staying nearby so that when it was time for bed I could help him get settled.

"Watson?"

"Mmm?" I hummed in response, a little lost in my book.

"Fetch me a knife."

I looked up in surprise. "Holmes, you are not hacking apart that puzzle!" I said.

"Here, then. You solve it," he said, handing me the puzzle with a look of pure frustration.

I took it from him and soon was myself very much frustrated by my lack of progress. Holmes just watched, seeming to wait for my patience to finally break.


	103. Watson's gone alone

_**Watson's Gone Alone**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

The first day of the trial hearing, Watson went alone. I wasn't feeling well, and Watson could read that plain on my face. And, try as I might, I couldn't hide it. I'd given him the silent treatment before he left.

"Holmes, I'm just concerned about your health, which is far more important," Watson said.

He was fixing his collar in my mirror and I glared at his reflection.

"Hate it all you like, but no doubt you would force me to stay in bed in similar conditions," Watson pointed out.

He left without another word and I was still stunned at how guilty I felt. Yes, I probably would keep him home in the same conditions. He was in worse shape then me under normal circumstances though, considering his war wound.

I heard a knock on our front door and eagerly sat up. I had mastered that much, though I had to be careful of reopening my wounds. I could walk as well, and I got up to shrug on my robe. I heard Mrs. Hudson greet the messenger, and I wished she'd hurry up. I listened eagerly for her tread on the stairs, and soon she walked in my open door delivering the package to me. I tore it open in my haste to see what had been brought.


	104. And Lestrade is surprised

_**And Lestrade is Surprised**_

**-Watson's POV-**

I arrived on time, but later than most; and was forced to take a back seat. Still, I could hear and watch the proceedings from my vantage point. The first person on trial was poor Matthew; and I caught sight of Sam and Tom sitting in the bench just behind the poor boy, who was shaking with fright. He had been allowed to go without handcuffs or any other restraints, and I knew Lestrade probably had a hand in that.

Thinking of Lestrade, I looked around for him, and saw him sitting towards the front. He seemed to feel my eyes on him and looked back at me. He seemed astonished to see me and mouthed the word 'later,' intending that we should meet after the proceedings. I nodded, wondering if he was simply surprised Holmes wasn't here, or surprised that I had come, considering our recent brush with death.

I watched, tense, as Matthew's trial proceeded. I felt terribly sorry for him; and when he burst into tears upon relating how his mother died, I saw Sam put a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder. Some of the women around me took pity on him, sighing sadly or shaking their heads.

Painful as I knew it must be for Matthew, and his family, I knew it was quite necessary to ensure that he learned his lesson. He was no longer a boy.


	105. Watson hurries home too late!

_**Watson Hurries Home Too Late!**_

**-Lestrade's POV-**

I was surprised to see Watson and wondered if he had even planned to be here, or if Holmes had sent him. The trial went well, in my estimation. Matthew received only a week sentence of hard labor. It was an unusual sentence, to say the least, and quite out of style. But, considering the situation, it seemed fair. Though it would be very difficult for him and his family, I knew they would eventually move on. His father and uncle had pulled Matthew into a hug after it finished.

After sending the constables on ahead of me, I stopped to talk to Watson; and we moved outside for some fresh air and quiet. Or, at least, it was quieter than indoors.

"I'm surprised to see you here," I admitted. "How is Holmes?"

"He's recovering well, though he's furious I wouldn't permit him to come today," Watson admitted. "Why are you so surprised? I wanted to see how Matthew faired."

"Well, I thought you weren't coming when you sent the telegram." I shrugged.

"What are you talking about?" Watson looked confused.

"You sent the telegram asking for information regarding our capture, and I would have brought it rather than sending it..." I suddenly realized I was talking to air as the sidewalk next to me was vacant where Watson had been.


	106. Holmes can't believe his eyes

_**Holmes Can't Believe His Eyes**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

Even after going through each of the papers several times, I couldn't fathom it. It hurt to realize that Watson was hiding this from me—and that Mycroft too. I wanted to pace, but I knew I didn't have that sort of energy. Instead I sat on the bed tapping my fingers angrily on the bedside table, and tried to figure out a logical reason why I had not been told.

I stood, papers in hand, and walked slowly into sitting room, leaning on the table. I had been able to move about a little as I gradually regained my fitness, but I was still a ways off.

When Mrs Hudson knocked and asked if I wanted a light lunch, I snapped a 'no' before once again focusing on the documents. They were clear, even if they lacked detail about the actual capture. I wanted to go thrash the hide off the Frenchmen and Mr. Brown. I didn't know what I hated more, Watson's deception—though not Watson himself—or the injustices done to my friends.

Trying to control my anger, I had no warning that Watson was home. And, indeed, he came in the door and up the stairs incredibly quietly. The first sign I had was the door being quickly opened and the wind from it hitting my back.


	107. Watson goes for solitude

_**Watson Goes for Solitude**_

**-Watson's POV-**

Living with the detective had given me a whole new appreciation for deviancy. I saw it in his opponents and the criminals he hunted as well in his own nature in combating their efforts. Though I never expected him to go as far as prying into my affairs. I was stunned and hurt that he would use Lestrade to go behind my back like this. It was not only a serious cause for mistrust, but it threw into question his very character.

I didn't empathize with his choice. I knew he was curious, but I was prepared to tell him once he was feeling better. I didn't want him to overreact either. He was still recovering from a nearly fatal night.

And I most certainly didn't want to hear how foolish I had been. How was I to know Brown was that villainous? That was the last thing I needed now; especially after all the mistakes I had made recently. I didn't need to hear how he knew this all along and just chose to keep his observations to himself rather than sharing them with me.

I was just standing there, speechless, and he seemed to be waiting for me to make the first move. I turned to leave, hoping to find some time of solace to think in my bedroom.


	108. But Holmes won't let go

_**But Holmes Won't Let Go**_

**-Watson's POV-**

"Watson!"

Holmes, moving incredibly fast, grabbed my arm. For a moment, we just stood there; grey eyes meeting blue ones, neither really sure of our next move. It might only take one word for the tension to rise, and again we would be forced to spend tormenting hours in silence.

Then, to my surprise, we both moved and in one instant we were hugging—holding each other tightly as if that might stop us from feeling angry or upset. It didn't take away all the hurt, but somehow the mutual sign of affection lowered our barriers considerably.

We eventually let go, uncomfortable with the prolonged silence and emotional scene. We moved to take seats. If we were going to make things right, there was no time like the present. There might not be anytime _but_ the present.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Holmes asked.

He seemed so innocent, and yet I knew what he had done to get to the information he wanted. The tenacity was ideal for chasing down a murderer or thief, but not now. After all that had happened, had we reverted back to the casual acquaintanceship marked so often by me studying his seemingly interesting life to distract from loneliness?

I cleared my throat before answering. "Holmes, forgive me, but it really was none of your business."


	109. So the matter is laid bare

_**So the Matter is Laid Bare**_

**-Watson's POV-**

"None of my business?" Holmes' cry was an outburst of mixed pain and indignation.

"Really, Holmes. You have had your secrets in the past, and I have let them be, when I feel that your safety and well-being are not in question," I argued.

"Your safety and well-being_ were_ in question," Holmes hissed.

"I am perfectly well now, Holmes. I have no symptoms other than a bit of aching and a healthy gratitude that the ordeal is over," I said. "But justice has been served, and I need no more than that."

"My dear—"

"Don't," I ordered.

I wasn't offended by his concern—actually, it was rather touching—but it was a title I didn't think he meant anymore; and the reminder of how we used to be hurt deeper than his trickery to discover my secret.

"Don't what?" Holmes asked, seeming confused and annoyed.

Finally I was tired of the caution we were taking. If he could dive after the truth in so blatant a manner, then so could I. I wouldn't play at this game of carefully crafting questions to create the illusion of peace.

"Holmes," I demanded his attention with my tone, "do you really want me here, or are you going to continue using me when I'm helpful and shunning me when I'm a bumbling bother?"


	110. And Holmes' lets his feelings show

_**And Holmes Lets His Feelings Show**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

"A bumbling bother?" I echoed, my voice rising in pitch. "Watson, I've never believed you to be a bumbling bother! Though, I know I, myself, am endowed with certain remarkable powers of deduction, I never judge you by the standards I judge myself! I love you as a brother. And, if I think of you as anything, it as a most trusted friend and stalwart ally! I would not trade you for an army of myself in a tight spot, because I know I make a terrible companion, anyways. But, because you are often the difference between failure and success on my missions.

"If I seem not to care or arrogant, I assure you it's not my intention to make you feel inferior. If I had no belief in your talents or in our partnership, I, myself, would have put a stop to it prior to this. I think of you as a dear friend and confidant that I can rely on fully. I cannot do that with anyone else. You mean the world to me, and I cannot fathom a life in which we are not friends.

"Though, if it is your wish," I added, hating the words I was saying, but knowing they needed said, "I would accept it if you wanted to leave," I said, taking a shaky breath.


	111. The need of one another

_**The Need of One Another**_

**-Watson's POV-**

"No!" I protested adamantly.

I did not want to leave now. Maybe I did, but not now that things have a chance of getting better.

Holmes breathed a sigh of relief. At least, I think it was relief.

"Then what do you intend to do?" he asked.

"Send you to bed with a heavy dose of something to make you forget this ever happened," I mutter.

Holmes takes me seriously, even though I am not.

"I'm not letting this go. We can't just forget this has happened," he said firmly.

"For one who dislikes drama, you are certainly making a big deal of this," I replied, my tone even. It wasn't a barb, but it was a simple observation.

"And for one who has been worried over my health for so long, you have certainly shown little regard to your own," Holmes replied, a teasing smile at his lips.

"I care, but not when it is offered in sacrifice for the greater good," I replied. "Much like yourself."

Holmes thought about this silently. "I care about you, dear fellow. I would be rather lost without you."

My eyebrows rose, and I gave him a look of surprise. "What ever do you mean?"

He regarded me with a look of compassion—a very unusual emotion for him. "I need my Boswell."


	112. Not fully understood

_**Not Fully Understood**_

**-Watson's POV-**

Maybe it was the fact I couldn't fathom how this man sitting before me was the same one that I had fought with so harshly. Maybe it was the fact I would never have guessed him capable of such a emotional remark. Had I really judged him so strongly? He had always seemed almost mechanical with his cold logic and his stone heart.

But, maybe I had been in the wrong. Maybe for all my skills with the human body I had neglected to accept he was human, and, therefore, prone to human emotions the same as the rest of us. But then, where were they? Where had they been hidden all this time?

"Holmes, you managed fine before me," I replied.

"I managed," Holmes agreed. "But I have found your companionship to be... invaluable."

I must have made a face, because he hurried to continue.

"You thought I didn't care."

It was a statement, not a question; and I could not lie again. I just looked down and sighed. "I did not know—"

"No, of course not. How were you to know I cared?" Holmes interrupted.

He seemed bitter, and I feared I had just made everything worse again. It was always my fault. But then he lowered his head and seemed lost in thought and I forgot to breathe.


	113. Watson is surprised

_**Watson is Surprised**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

Words came rushing back…

_ "Did you wake on time in the service?"_

_ "I will not have you speak so towards him again!"_

_ "I doubt Mr. Brown would want me there—I might fall asleep."_

_ "So I am to vigil alone?"_

_ "Watson we need to talk."_

_ "About what? Why you continue to assist a client who has insulted me? How you hate the fact I've made friends with Sam? How you hate that I would offer to help Sam rather then that horrid Mr. Brown? Save your breath, I don't want to hear any of it!"_

"Watson, I was going to tell you—I should have—about the day you left Mr. Brown and I after his insult and about the day we met in the street."

"What does it matter, Holmes? He's your client," Watson whispered.

He sounded resigned, as if he never expected to get his own way in the matter.

"No, he's the most damnable man I have ever been hired by!" I replied. "The day you left us in the sitting room, I refused to hear him and sent him away warning him never to insult you again. That morning after the vigil at Sam's, I told him to go to the police with his complaints. I truly hate him, my dear fellow."

Watson, looking surprised, just blinked.


	114. But their together for good

_**But They're Together for Good**_

**-Watson's POV-**

I felt terrible now, for not trusting him and for believing the worst about him. All this time I had held him to blame for my troubles rather than trusting him. He might be cold and calculating, but he was loyal and caring behind the mask.

"Holmes, I am sorry I didn't trust you. I should have known better..." I whispered.

"No, I should have been open with you from the start, and insisted Mr. Brown go to the police. I never should have allowed things to progress to this level," Holmes said, holding up the papers he'd gotten from Lestrade. "I am sorry I have sunk so low as to treat you as a client. I don't want to study you, my dear Watson. I want to know you," Holmes said. "And I want you to know and trust me."

I smiled kindly at him. "I want the same. I want things back to normal."

Holmes returned the smile. "I am glad. I'm sorry for my part."

"And I'm sorry for mine." I said. "As for the little escapade with Lestrade—blame him, he disappeared first."

My mouth twitched, beginning to rise with a smile.

Holmes nodded. "Oh, I quite believe it. If I had been here—"

My next retort came quickly. "You weren't, you were sleeping late in bed!"


	115. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

**-Holmes' POV-**

I sighed blissfully, snuggling deeper into the covers. Two weeks following our little heart-to-heart, things were back to normal—or even better. I was content to lay in bed all morning after a long night of talking with Lestrade. It had been a productive meeting, but now I was groggy and convinced Watson had indeed slipped something into the last cup of tea I had had.

"Holmes!"

My peaceful morning was at an end as Watson came bursting in the door, coming over to my bed to give me a gentle shake.

"Look, you have a letter!" he said, passing me the envelope.

Since the last case I hadn't gotten much correspondence. Just the final bills from my hospital stay—that were mysteriously paid—and a few letters from Lestrade asking about some final details.

I opened the letter and read it over, glancing over the top of it to see Watson regarding me with bright blue eyes.

"Yes, in answer to your question. It's a case," I said, tossing the letter towards him.

He gobbled the contents with an excited eye.

"When are we leaving?" he asked.

I gave him a look. "When can you be ready?"

"Now!" was his enthusiastic reply.

I climbed out of bed laughing, and together we departed; off to whatever adventure we were bound.


End file.
